% 


THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

8 | "5 
1 l 8 N/VL 


Return  this  book  on  or  before  the 
Latest  Date  stamped  below. 


University  of  Illinois  Library 


itb  16  :JK 


BSC  1 9 U179 


university  ofiumois 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/wildwesternsceneOOjone 


THE  DEATH  OF  CHARLES.— P.  829. 


WILD  WESTERN  SCEJNTES. -SECOND  SERIES. 


THE 

WAR-PATH: 


A NARRATIVE 

OF 

ADVENTURES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


WITH  MINUTE  DETAILS  OF  THE  CAPTIVITY 
OF  SUNDRY  PERSONS; 

AMUSING  AND  PERILOUS  INCIDENTS  DURING  THEIR 
ABODE  IN  THE  WILD  WOODS; 

FEARFUL  BATTLES  WITH  THE  INDIANS; 

(fmmong  of  ^option  info  an  fnbian  if antrljr ; 
ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS  AND  RATTLESNAKES,  kc. 


Ye  who  love  a nation’s  legends, 

Love  the  ballads  of  a people, 

That  like  voices  from  afar  off 
Call  to  us  to  pause  and  listen, — 
###### 

Listen  to  this  Indian  Legend  1 

Song  of  Hiawatha. 


By  J.  B.  JONES, 

AUTHOR  OF  “WILD  WESTERN  SCENES,”  “ADVENTURES  OF  A COUNTRY  MERCHANT,”  ETC. 


JEllustvateti  fcntf)  fEngrabtngs  from  ©rtjjiital  Destgns. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B LIPPINCOTT  & CO. 
1874. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 
J.  B.  JONES, 

in  the  Clerk’s  Office  or  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Eastern 
District  of  Pennsylvania. 


, c ...  , 

-Til?  XuMms*. 

PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS  OF  THE  NARRATIVE. 


Or> 


; >- 

2S 


William  Franklin,  Governor . 

Old  Mr.  Cameron,  the  Exile. 

Charles,  his  son. 

Thomas  Schooley,  Quaker. 

Richard,  his  son. 

David  Jones,  Baptist  missionary. 

Samuel  Green,  surveyor. 

Daniel  Boone,  the  Pioneer. 

Simon  Kenton,  the  Scout. 

Hugh  McSwine,  a bloody  Indian-fighter 
Skippie,  a Scotch  messenger. 

Bonnel  Moody,  a Tory. 

John  Brown,  innkeeper , 

Will  Van  Wiggens,  a blacksmith - 
Peter  Shaver,  an  overseer. 

Paddy  Pence,  coachman  and  gar'11'**#* 

Simon  Girty,  a renegade. 

Thayendanegea,  a Mohawk  s&ch&j- 
Wilted  Grass,  a Delaware  youth . 

St.  Tammany,  aged  Delaware  chief. 

Ground-Hog,  j Warrior*. 

Blue  Pigeon,  etc.,  i 

Mary  Schooley,  Thomas's  wife. 

Julia  Lane,  Thomas's  ward. 

Kate  Livingston,  Julia's  friend. 

Joan,  Van  Wiggens' s wife. 

Mart  Boone,  1 Kentucky  girls. 

Sue  Calloway,  J 
Esther,  Queen  of  the  Senecas. 

Gentle  Moonlight,  Brandt's  aunt. 

Brown  Thrush,  Bandt's  sister. 

Diving  Duck,  an  old  squaw. 

Rose,  Julia's  old  nurse. 

Solo,  Julia's  Newfoundland  dog 
Watch,  Van  Wiggens' s mongrel  cur. 

A Jackass. 

SCENES  IN  NEW  JERSEY,  NEW  YORK,  PENNSYLVANIA,  OHIO, 
AND  KENTUCKY. 


3 


* s 


-/ 


f 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES 


SECOND  SERIES. 


CHAPTER  I. 


BEGINNING  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


A dense  fog  hung  over  the  placid  surface  of  the  Dela- 
ware River,  and  enveloped  in  its  folds  many  of  the  ancient 
buildings  of  Burlington,  then  the  capital  of  the  colony  of 
New  Jersey.  The  stately  mansion  of  the  British  governor, 
William  Franklin,  situated  on  the  beautiful  green  bank  so 
much  admired  at  the  present  day,  was  wrapped  in  the 
vapour,  and,  as  was  often  said  of  its  occupant,  seemed 
lost  in  a mist.  Even  the  haunted  tree  in  front  of  the 
governor’s  residence — the  witches’  sycamore — was  reported 
by  fearful  pedestrians  to  have  vanished,  or  at  least  to  have 
become  invisible. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  the  gloom  which  oppressed  the 
atmosphere,  a most  extraordinary  sound  of  hilarity  burst 
from  the  hall  of  one  of  the  dwellings  on  the  principal 
street  running  at  right  angles  with  the  river.  The  house 
from  which  the  sound  proceeded  was  the  habitation  of  a 
solemn  Quaker.  The  hall-door  was  open,  and  within,  erect 
as  a young  man  of  thirty-five,  stood  Thomas  Schooley,  in 
his  sixtieth  year,  surrounded  by  several  of  his  friends,  of 
about  the  same  age  and  stature,  all  being  tall  and  athletic, 
and  habited  alike,  as  they  were  all  Quakers. 

Friend  Schooley  was  receiving  the  parting  adieus  of  the 
last  of  his  society  brethren  in  Burlington,  before  departing 
on  what  was  then  termed  the  long  and  perilous  journey 

l*  5 


6 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


to  the  northwestern  counties  of  the  colony.  And  the 
mirthful  sound,  so  unusual  on  such  occasions,  and  so  ex- 
traordinary at  any  time  among  that  class  of  people,  had 
been  produced  by  the  following  remark  : — “ Thee  will  save 
thy  property,  Thomas,  and  also  thy  neck,  by  fleeing  to  the 
mountains/’  The  old  men  laughed  quite  heartily  for  a 
brief  interval ; while  a youthful  auditor  in  the  parlour 
seemed  to  yield  to  uncontrollable  merriment.  She  had 
beheld  the  sudden  relaxation  of  the  countenances  of  the 
aged  men  ; and  their  long  sharp  noses,  singularly  alike, 
reaching  beyond  their  sunken  lips  almost  down  to  their 
peaked  chins,  had  caused  her  cachinnation. 

Beside  the  young  lady  sat  the  wife  of  Thomas,  erect 
and  tall,  and  plainly  habited  in  a costly  hooded  salmon- 
coloured  cloak  and  scooped  bonnet.  Her  bloodless  lips  ex- 
perienced no  contraction;  but  her  pallid  brow,  with  a quiver 
slightly  perceptible,  was  turned  toward  her  youthful  com- 
panion. 

“ Julia,  thee  dost  not  seem  to  be  cast  down  at  the  moment 
of  departing.” 

“ Indeed,  I could  not  help  laughing,  Mrs.  Schooley,  when 
I saw  the  faces  of  the  old  men.” 

“I  fear  they  will  suffer  many  agonies  in  the  wrathful 
storm  soon  to  burst  upon  this  devotedT  country,”  said  she, 
with  a deep  sigh;  “and  I trust  the  Lord  will  so  sustain 
them  that  they  may  not  find  their  laughter  turned  to  groans 
under  affliction.  But  thee  must  call  me  Mary,  Julia,  and 
not  Mrs.  Schooley,  as  is  the  wont  of  those  with  whom 
Thomas,  thy  guardian,  has  permitted  thee  to  dwell.” 

“ Pardon  me,  Mary;  I will  strive  to  obey  thee  in  future. 
And  in  truth  it  should  be  a very  melancholy  moment ; for 
from  among  the  savages  and  the  wild  beasts  of  the  wilder- 
ness, whither  we  are  going,  there  can  be  no  certainty  we 
shall  ever  return.  Thy  son  Richard,  whom  I see  endeavour- 
ing to  wash  away  his  tears  at  the  pump,  must  be  sorely 
distressed  at  the  idea  of  the  hardships  and  dangers  to  be 
encountered.” 

“No,  Julia.  He  merely  grieves  at  the  wickedness  of 
mankind  and  the  abominations  of  rebellions.  He  is  a 
dutiful  child,  and  strong,  too.  He  is  quite  as  tall  as 
his  father,  and  can  perform  as  much  labour  as  the  stoutest 
slave  we  possess.  He  is  industrious  and  careful,  and  will 


SECOND  SERIES. 


7 


not  see  diminished  the  estate  he  is  to  inherit.  But  here  is 
Thomas,”  she  continued,  rising. 

“Sit  still,  Mary,”  said  Thomas.  “ Let  us  tarry  until  1 
can  utter  the  words  which  I am  prompted  to  speak  to  Julia, 
my  ward.  Julia,  dost  thou  think  thy  mind  is  quite  decided 
upon  making  this  journey  ?” 

“ Oh,  quite,  Mr.  Schooley — Thomas,  I should  have  said. 
I am  delighted  at  the  idea  of  dwelling  in  the  wilderness, 
and  am  very  impatient  to  be  gone.” 

“ Thee  shall  be  gratified.  But  thee  must  be  prepared 
to  endure  a great  many  inconveniences : — rude  and  often 
uncomfortable  houses;  but  few  companions  of  any  sort, 
and  none  of  the  like  frivolity  and  gayety  of  thy  friends  in 
East  Jersey,  or  even  here,  in  this  once  quiet  and  sedate 
seat  of  piety ; no  shops  where  are  vended  the  playthings 
of  silly  fashion ; no  harpsichords  and  lutes,  the  instruments 
of  idle  sounds ” 

“ Pray,  Thomas,  do  not  call  them  idle  sounds  ! But  are 
there  not  birds  ? Will  I not  hear  my  precious  woodrobins, 
the  thrushes,  the  bluebirds,  and  even  the  daring  catbirds?” 

“ I do  not  know ; but  thee  may  expect  to  find  them.” 

“ Oh,  yes ! And  fie  upon  thee,  Thomas,  for  deeming 
idle  the  glorious  songs  the  Creator  puts  in  the  throats  of 
those  tiny  beings  for  our  enjoyment !’ 

“ I would  warn  thee  of  the  privations  of  a forest  life,  and 
then,  and  for  the  last  time,  leave  it  optional  with  thee  to 
go  or  remain.  I am  thy  guardian,  and  might  exert  my 
authority ; but  bad  motives  would  be  attributed  if  any  mis- 
chance should  follow.  Thou  art  the  sole  descendant  of  one 
of  the  proprietors  under  William  Berkeley,  who  derived  by 
James ” 

“ James,  Duke  of  York,  brother  of  the  King — Sir  Wil- 
liam Berkeley,  Earl  of  Stratton ; and  my  ancestor  was  a 
knight — Sir  Thomas  Lane.  But  pardon  me — I did  not  in- 
tend to  interrupt  thee.” 

66  Thee  knows  I regard  titles  as  merely  frivolous  appen- 
dages, although  I practise  submission  to  those  in  authority. 
Well ! thou  art  the  heiress  of  all  the  lands  held  by  thy  father 
at  his  death,  as  I am  the  heir  of  my  father,  whose  first  an- 
cestor was  landed  in  this  town  from  the  “Willing  Mind” 
in  1677,  some  twenty  years  before  thy  titled  ancestor  was 
appointed  governor.” 


8 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“Yes,  he  was  governor;  I forgot  that.” 

“ He  was  a better  officer  and  man  than  his  successor 
Edward,  called  Lord  Cornbury,  the  presumptuous  and  dis- 
sipated cousin  of  Ann,  denominated  the  Queen.  But,  as  I 
was  saying  to  thee,  thou  art  the  heiress  of  many  large 
tracts  of  which  we  know  but  little.  Some  are  in  Hunterdon 
and  Sussex  counties,  and  some  lie  in  East  Jersey,  in  Bergen, 
Morris,  and  Essex,  which  may  be  valuable  at  a future 
period,  if  not  confiscated.” 

“ Confiscated  ?” 

“Listen,  and  thee  will  learn  my  meaning.  As  I was 
saying  to  thee,  I have  likewise  many  tracts,  of  more  or  less 
fertility,  besides  the  mountain,  which  I have  been  told  will 
perpetuate  my  name — truly  a useless  distinction, — and  all 
of  which  might  be  lost  if  we  were  to  become  identified  with 
the  people  about  to  engage  in  this  rebellion.  George  will 
surely  pour  out  his  wrath  upon  his  enemies  ; -and  many  who 
remain  upon  the  scene  of  strife,  although  they  may  not 
participate  in  its  heinousness,  may  nevertheless  be  involved 
in  the  doom  of  the  guilty.  Burlington  is  sadly  demoralized 
since  our  forefathers  landed  upon  its  soil ; and  there  may 
be  those  among  us  who  would  not  hesitate  to  bear  false- 
witness  against  their  neighbours.” 

“ Do  you  really  think  there  will  be  war,  Thomas  ?” 
“Dost  thee  not  hear  the  firing  of  that  swivel  at  the 
Ferry  Tavern?” 

“ Bichard  told  me  those  engaged  in  it  were  boys.” 

“ He  told  thee  truly.  But  they  are  celebrating  the 
battle  of  Lexington,  and  the  burning  of  a cargo  of  tea 
from  a ship  in  Cohansey  Creek,  about  which  I will  inform 
thee  on  our  journey — if  thee  resolves  to  go.  But,  if  thee 
decides  at  the  last  moment  to  remain,  William  Franklin  is 
ready  to  receive  thee.”  N 

“I  will  go  with  thee.  And,  if  I did  not,  I would  not 
stay  at  the  governor’s  house.” 

“ Thee  is  positive,  Julia,”  said  Mary. 

“ I mean,  with  my  guardian’s  permission,  I would  prefer 

to  live  at  the  house  of- ” 

“ William  Livingston,  thee  would  say,”  added  Thomas. 

“ True,  and  b^  with  my  old  schoolmate,  Kate.” 
“William  Livingston  will  join  the  rebels.  And  wouldst 
thou  prefer  to  dwell  with  him  for  that  reason  ? ’ 


SECOND  SERIES. 


9 


44  No,  Thomas — that  is — I know  not  what  to  say.  But 
do  not  frown  upon  me.  Indeed,  it  was  not  on  that  account 
I preferred  to  dwell  in  his  mansion.  But  if  the  rebels 
shoull  succeed,  and  if  I were  to  live  with  Governor  Frank- 
lin, might  we  not  lose  our  lands  ?” 

“ Thee  must  not  suppose  the  rebels  can  succeed.  And 
I hope  thee  has  not  formed  an  attachment  for  any  one  but 
thy  friend  Kate  at  Elizabethtown  ?” 

“Indeed,  indeed , I have  not!” 

“ Then  do  not  blush,  Julia,”  said  Mary,  smiling. 

“Nor  at  Princeton,”  continued  Thomas,  while  poor 
Julia  continued  to  blush,  “where  I learnt  thy  Elizabeth- 
town friends  used  to  visit,  and  that  thou  hadst  danced  with 
the  young  man  who  won  the  first  honour  in  college.” 

“ If  I do  blush,  Thomas,  it  is  not  the  blush  of  shame. 
You  are  my  guardian,  to  whom  I promised  my  dying 
father  to  render  all  reasonable  obedience.  I danced  with 
Charles  Cameron.  Kate  Livingston  and  myself  danced 
with  him  an  equal  number  of  times.  But  I deny  having 
formed  any  attachment  such  as  you  allude  to.”  As  Julia 
uttered  these  words,  a sudden  pallour  chased  away  her 
blushes. 

“ I believe  thee,  Julia.  Thou  didst  never  yet  fear  to 
tell  the  truth,  and  I honour  thy  candour.  This  Charles,  I 
am  told,  is  a young  man  of  talent.  He  was  taken,  Mary, 
when  an  infant,  by  the  Indians,  and  lived  among  them 
some  fifteen  years.  When  restored  to  his  father,  who  had 
long  mourned  his  loss  in  solitude,  living  a hermit’s  life  on 

the  Delaware,  near  the  Gap ” 

“Does  he  live  there  still?”  asked  Julia,  quickly. 

“ He  does,  and  on  thy  land,  or  on  a tract  adjoining 
thine.” 

“Poor  child!”  said  Mary. 

“ Thee  must  not  decide  too  hastily,”  continued  Thomas. 
“ It  does  not  appear  that  he  is  poor,  or  an  object  of  pity. 
At  all  events,  his  father,  it  seems,  had  money  to  bestow 
upon  him  an  expensive  education ; and  thee  has  heard  the 
young  man  achieved  the  first  honour.  Nevertheless,  his 
father  was  not  present.” 

“ He  was  not  ? How  strange  !”  said  Julia,  abstractedly. 
“ I have  seen  this  youth  at  the  governor’s,  and  I assure 
thee,  Mary*  he  made  a good  appearance ; seemed  affable 


10 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


and  polished,  and  was  treated  with  courtesy  by  William. 
But  let  us  not  linger.  The  sun  breaks  forth  through  the 
mist,  and  we  shall  have  a fine  day.  The  coach  waits  at 
the  door.  Come,  Richard.  We  leave  an  open  house  in 
the  keeping  of  thy  old  nurse.  Thou  wilt  go,  Julia?” 

“ Oh,  yes,  freely,  eagerly,”  said  she,  rising  and  taking 
his  arm. 

u Thee  will  meet  him,  perhaps,  at  his  father’s  house,”  said 
Richard,  who  had  been  listening,  half  archly  and  half 
reproachfully. 

“ When  didst  thou  see  him  at  the  governor’s,  Thomas?” 
asked  Julia,  not  heeding  Richard. 

“ This  very  morning.  He  was  William’s  guest  last 
night.” 

“ You  see,  Mary,  and  you  too,  Richard,  that  he  did  not 
visit  me,”  said  Julia. 

“ He  arrived  late  in  the  night,”  resumed  Thomas,  while 
Julia  seemed  to  lean  somewhat  heavily  on  his  arm.  “ He 
had  been  sent  for  by  William,  who  has  perhaps  employed 
him  in  the  service  of  George,  since  he  is  familiar  with  the 
dialects  of  the  Indians.” 

“ I am  sure  he  would  not  assume  any  such — that  is — I 
mean— I am  quite  certain  he  would  not  use  his  influence  to 
incite  the  Indians  to  hostility — to  make  war  upon  the  inno- 
cent inhabitants ” 

“ No,  child,  thee  need  not  fear  it.  But  it  would  be  no 
trifling  service  to  ascertain,  through  the  instrumentality  of 
this  young  man,  the  sentiments  of  the  various  chiefs  in 
regard  to  the  unhappy  quarrel  with  the  mother  country, 
and  to  persuade  them  to  remain  neutral  during  the  contest. 
I know  not  whether  the  lad  agreed  to  the  proposals  of  the 
governor ; but  I saw  him  set  out  in  company  -with  another 
college-bred  Indian  youth,  named  Bartholomew  Calvin — in 
the  Delaware  language  Shawuskukhkung , meaning  Wilted 
Grrass.  They  were  mounted  on  fine  horses,  and  quickly 
disappeared  on  the  road  we  will  soon  be  traversing.” 

By  the  time  the  last  speech  was  ended,  the  party  of  four 
were  seated  in  the  carriage ; and  Paddy  Pence,  the  Irish 
coachman,  flourished  his  long  whip  over  the  horses*  ears  as 
they  bounded  forward  on  the  Trenton  Road. 

Julia  Lane,  who  had  not  smiled^  at  Mr.  Schooky’s  ex- 
pression of  “ another  college-bred  Indian  youth,”  now  sat 


SECOND  SERIES. 


11 


silently  and  thoughtfully  beside  her  female  companion 
seemingly  unconscious  of  the  subject  of  the  conversation 
maintained  between  her  guardian  and  his  son  Richard,  who 
occupied  the  front  seat  of  the  vehicle. 

Julia  was  just  in  her  blissful  seventeenth  year.  Though 
slight  and  fragile,  her  stature  was  sufficiently  tall,  and  her 
form  of  beautiful  proportions.  She  had  an  exquisite  com- 
plexion, wavering  between  the  fair  and  the  dark,  sometimes 
the  one  and  sometimes  the  other ; and  features  not  sus- 
ceptible of  classification,  but  ever  varying  with  her  emo- 
tions and  fully  expressing  them 

Julia  sat  in  silence,  leaning  her  delicate  chin  upon  her 
small  hand,  listlessly  oblivious  of  the  appraisements  of  the 
farms  and  tenements  they  passed  uttered  by  her  guardian 
and  his  son  Richard.  She  was  not  even  startled  by  the 
remark  that  a certain  broad  domain  in  view  belonged  to  a 
handsome  young  widow. 

Her  thoughts  were  divided  between  the  past  and  the  un- 
known future.  Hitherto  her  life  had  been  an  unbroken 
dream  of  pleasure,  with  the  exception  of  the  agony  of  the 
loss  of  her  beloved  father.  But,  death  being  one  of  the 
inevitable  incidents  of  nature,  nature  itself  provides  a solace 
for  the  pang.  It  is  natural  to  die,  and  it  is  natural  to 
mourn  the  departed;  but  nature  enables  us  to  bear  the 
loss,  and  provides  other  objects  to  occupy  our  affection, 
so  that  in  turn  we  shall  be  loved  and  lost,  mourned  and 
forgotten. 

Julia’s  guardian  had  been  the  agent  and  then  the  partner 
of  her  father;  and  many  vast  tracts  of  land  were  held  in 
common  between  them,  and  remained  undivided  at  the  de- 
mise of  Mr.  Lane.  The  estate  of  Mr.  Lane  was  left  to  the 
sole  use  of  the  heiress  upon  attaining  a certain  age.  She 
was  to  be  permitted  to  attend  the  church  of  her  fathers, 
having  been  baptized  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jonathan  Odell,  rector 
of  St.  Mary’s,  Burlington  ; but  she  was  not  to  marry  during 
her  minority  without  the  permission  of  her  guardian. 
Nevertheless,  relying  upon  the  rectitude  of  the  Quakers, 
among  whom  he  had  dwelt  the  greater  portion  of  his  life, 
the  dying  parent  had  besought  his  daughter  to  heed  the 
counsels  of  his  friend,  and  be  governed  by  his  advice  in 
natters  wherein  her  own  mind  might  need  instruction  or  be 
involved  in  doubt ; and  she  had  promised  to  conform  tc 


12 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


liis  injunction.  Having  completed  her  education,  Julia 
supposed  that  but  few  exigencies  could  arise  wherein  her 
action  would  require  the  guidance  of  an  adviser.  She  was 
permitted  to  associate  with  the  acquaintances  she  had 
formed  before  her  father’s  death,  and,  among  the  rest,  Kate 
Livingston — the  daughter  of  an  able  lawyer  living  at  Eliza- 
bethtown, near  Staten  Island  Sound,  with  whom  Mr.  Lane 
had  much  legal  business,  and  who  was  destined  subse- 
quently to  act  an  important  part  in  the  affairs  of  his 
country. 

It  was  at  the  mansion  of  Mr.  Livingston,  where  Julia 
sojourned  the  greater  portion  of  her  time,  that  she  became 
acquainted  with  Charles  Cameron  and  Bartholomew  S. 
Calvin, — the  latter  being  the  nephew  and  heir  of  the  king 
of  that  portion  of  the  Delaware  nation  which  remained 
upon  the  seaboard;  a lad  of  mournful  spirit  and  great 
meekness,  upon  whom  Dr.  Witherspoon,  of  the  College  at 
Princeton,  had  resolved  to  bestow  a classical  education. 
These  youths  had  attracted  the  notice  of  Mr.  Livingston; 
and,  foreseeing  the  benefits  which  might  be  derived  from 
their  knowledge  of  Indian  character  during  the  approach- 
ing struggle  with  the  mother  country,  he  had  prevailed  on 
them  to  spend  their  vacations  at  his  house,  and  from  whom 
both  himself  and  his  daughter  Kate,  as  well  as  Julia, 
learned  many  of  the  remarkable  characteristics  of  the 
tribes  of  the  forest.  And  Kate  and  Julia  listened  to  ac- 
counts of — 

* 

“ Rough  quarries,  rocks,  and  hills  whose  heads  touch  heaven 

And  doubtless  they  thought  the  tale  was 

4 Strange,  ’twas  passing  strange ; 

’Twas  pitiful,  ’twas  wondrous  pitiful; 

But,  unlike  the  Venetian  beauty,  they  did  not  dream  of 
love.  It  was  merely  friendship  and  romance. 

So  much  for  the  past.  We  have  said  that  Julia,  in  her 
obliviousness  of  the  present,  only  strove  to  penetrate  the 
future.  For  hours  she  mused  in  silence.  Would  she  see 
the  young  graduates  upon  the  margin  of  one  of  the  bright 
lakes  embowered  in  the  wilderness  ? Would  they  lead  her 
to  the  wild  summit  of  the  mountain,  whence  the  eye  might 
distinguish  objects  dimly  in  the  distance?  Would  they  not 


SECOND  SERIES. 


18 


resume  their  savage  dispositions  in  the  solitudes  of  the 
forest?  Would  she  see  Charles’s  hither?  Who  could  he 
be?  Such  were  some  of  the  conjectures  of  the  tender 
maiden  as  she  journeyed  toward  the  wilderness. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A FIRESIDE  STORY — THAYENDANEGEA — PADDY’S  BLUNDER. 

The  fog  of  the  morning  having  been  dispelled  by  the 
glorious  sun  in  a cloudless  sky,  and  the  road  leading  mostly 
through  a level  country  until  it  passed  the  northern  limits 
of  the  present  Mercer  county,  our  travellers  accomplished 
what  was  deemed  a good  day’s  journey  long  before  the  ap- 
proach of  darkness.  Paddy  Pence  had  not  spared  his 
horses,  nor  had  Thomas  Schooley  restrained  his  hand,  until 
they  came  in  view  of  the  beautiful  valley  in  Hunterdon 
county,  in  which  the  famous  log  tavern  of  John  Ringo  was 
situated,  and  where  it  had  been  determined  to  rest  the  first 
night. 

Paddy  was  now  ordered  to  permit  the  horses  to  fall  into 
a gentler  pace,  for  they  exhibited  symptoms  of  weariness, 
and  one  of  them  had  loosened  a shoe. 

The  travellers  gazed  with  delight  at  the  beautiful  aspect 
of  the  country  as  they  descended  into  the  valley,  which, 
however,  became  wilder  in  its  features  as  they  progressed. 
The  settlements  were  perceptibly  farther  apart,  and  the 
forest  wTas  but  slightly  variegated  by  cultivated  fields. 
Majestic  oaks,  and  tall  pines,  and  budding  chestnuts,  from 
which  the  squirrel’s  joyous  cry  and  the  songs  of  happy 
birds  were  heard,  incessantly,  almost  constantly  surrounded 
them.  In  the  dim  distance  on  the  left  Thomas  pointed  to 
the  blue  outline  of  the  Musconetcong  Mountain;  and  on 
either  hand  they  had  occasional  glimpses  of  mills  situated 
on  the  crystal  streams  flowing  toward  the  Delaware  River, 
some  ten  miles  distant. 

“Plase  yer  honour,”  said  Paddy,  drawing  the  reins  sud~ 

2 


14 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


derdy  and  causing  the  horses  to  stand  perfectly  still,  “what 
sort  of  a baste  is  that?” 

“ Baste,  Patrick?  Oh,  you  mean  beast!” 

“ Yis,  yer  honour,  I mane  baste,  and  it's  as  ugly  a crather 
as  my  eyes  iver  beheld.  One  end  is  under  the  stone,  and 
the  other  swags  backwards  and  forwards,  and  jangles  like 
wee  sleigh-bells  wid  their  clappers  broken.” 

“ Patrick,”  said  Thomas,  descending  from  the  carriage, 
u that  is  a snake — a rattlesnake!” 

“ Och,  the  baste!”  cried  Paddy,  who  had  likewise  de- 
scended from  his  seat ; but  he  ran  back  hastily,  and  leaped 
upon  the  box,  where  he  sat  shivering  with  terror. 

“ Drive  on,  Patrick,  and  let  Mary  and  Julia  see 
him.  He  is  nearly  dead.  Some  one  has  cast  a stone 
on  his  head,”  continued  Thomas,  who  had  been  joined  by 
Richard. 

“Och,  murther!”  cried  Paddy,  making  an  involuntary 
movement,  as  if  to  turn  the  horses  in  the  opposite  direction. 
“Plase  yer  honour,  let’s  go  back  agin  ! That  baste  will  be 
the  death  of  poor  Paddy  Pence ! They  tould  me  I’d  find 
sich  divils  of  blackguard  bastes  in  the  same  country  with 
the  nagers,  and  that  they’d  ate  me  up  in  the  garden,  and 
swaller  me  down  on  horseback.” 

Mr.  Schooley  chided  his  coachman  for  using  such  lan- 
guage; and,  being  joined  by  Julia,  whose  curiosity  over- 
came her  fears,  he  made  Richard  stand  upon  the  stone, 
and,  stooping  down,  dispossessed  the  snake,  which  was  a 
pretty  large  one,  of  his  rattles.  He  likewise  explained 
to  his  ward  the  -ver y natural  affright  of  Paddy,  who  was 
a recent  importation,  and,  had  never  beheld  a serpent 
before. 

“ Be  the  powers,  if  yer  honour  aint  afraid  to  take  hould 
of  the  baste  with  your  naked  hands,  Paddy  Pence  is  not 
the  boy  to  hould  back  on  his  high  box.”  And  so  Paddy 
urged  his  horses — which  pricked  up  their  ears  and  snorted 
repeatedly — beyond  the  snake. 

“ Patrick,  my  friend,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  with  much 
gravity,  “ thee  must  not  swear.  Thee  must  read  the  third 
chapter  of  James.” 

“ Och,  yer  honour,  I’m  a thrue  Jacobite,  and  there’s 
niver  a bit  of  danger  that  I’ll  take  the  oath  against  the 
rightful—” 


{SECOND  SERIES. 


l.r> 


“ Hit!  lia!  He  will  never  understand  thee,”  said  Julia, 
laughing  heartily. 

“ Och,  but  I will,  my  beautiful  young  mistress,”  con 
tinued  Paddy;  44 and  I’ll  die,  but  I’ll  sarve  him  faithfully 
for,  of  all  the  masters  it’s  iver  been  my  lot  to  own,  niver  a 
divil  of  ’em  called  me  friend  before.” 

44  Patrick,  thee  misunderstands  me.  I am  a loyal  subject 
A George.  But  I meant  thy  profane  swearing.” 

“ Be  my  sowl,  I wouldn’t  be  guilty  of  such  a thing  in 
yer  prisence.” 

44  Thou  hast  done  it  twice  already,  Patrick.” 

44  Then  I beg  yer  honour’s  and  the  ladies’  pardons ; for, 
be  my  life,  I didn’t  know  it,  and  I hope  yer  honour  will 
tache  me  betther  manners.” 

44 1 will  strive  to  do  so,  Patrick.  And  thee  must  re- 
member to  swear  not  at  all.  But  thee  must  read  the  New 
Testament.” 

44 1 thank  yer  honour,  and  I’ll  try  and  remimber  not  to 
forgit  what  you  say;  but,  yer  honour,  I darsn’t  rade  the 
Tistament  widout  permission  of  the  praist.” 

44  It  is  a great  pity,  Patrick,  that  thou  hast  been  bred  in 
such  ignorance  of  thy  rights ; but,  if  thou  wilt  read,  thou 
wilt  learn  all  about  the  precious  privilege  wdiicli  is'  the 
birthright  of  every  one. 

44  If  yer  honour  advises  it,  I will  larn  wThat  Saint  James 
ses  about  swearing,  which  is  a foul-mouthed  practice.  But 
there  is  one  difficulty,  yer  honour.” 

44  I tell  thee  there  can  be  none  where  there  is  a will.” 

44 1 mane,  yer  honour,  that  divil  a bit  wras  I iver  taught 
to  rade ! There  agin ! I see  yer  honour  is  offinded  at  the 
mintion  of  the  blackguard ! But,  pardon  me,  yer  honour, 
till  I larn  betther  the  nixt  time.” 

The  horses  crept  along  slowly,  and  Mr.  Schooley  re- 
mained on  foot,  declining  to  re-enter  the  carriage. 

Julia  and  Richard,  proceeding  more  briskly,  were  soon 
several  hundred  paces  in  advance,  and  appeared  to  be  much 
interested  with  the  objects  which  met  their  view\ 

44 1 am  glad  to  see  thee  joyful,  Julia,”  said  the  young 
man,  when  he  perceived  a smile  upon  the  fair  face  of  his 
companion,  as  she  stooped  ever  and  anon  to  observe  a 
severed  wild-flower,  to  which  she  evidently  attached  a sig- 
nification incomprehensible  to  Richard. 


It) 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES. 


“ There  is  a freshness  in  the  air,  Richard,  a perfume  in 
the  wild-flowers,  a grandeur  and  sublimity  in  the  woods  and 
hills,  never  known  in  cities  or  densely-peopled  districts, 
and  irresistibly  productive  of  an  exhilaration  of  spirits.' ’ 

“I  wish  I could  feel  it!”  said  he,  sighing.  “Even  the 
hieroglyphics  on  the  tree  by  the  snake — the  Indian  marks — 
seemed  to  be  interesting  to  thee,  while  to  me  they  were 
without  meaning.  I wish  some  one  would  teach  me  to 
enjoy  the  things  which  afford  thee  pleasure,  and  also  the 
way  to  please  thee.” 

“ Oh,  don’t  sigh,  Richard ! The  things  which  please 
my  fancy  would  be  considered  frivolous  by  thy  father,  and 
no  doubt  he  has  long  since  taught  thee  to  regard  them  as 
he  does.” 

“No,  no,  Julia;  if  any  thing  I could  do  might  appear 
pleasing  in  thy  sight,  I would  not  deem  it  frivolous.” 

“ I thank  thee,  Richard.  You  were  ever  kind  to  me. 
I am  sensible  of  your  goodness,  and  of  your  father’s  in- 
dulgence to  a wayward  orphan.  I am  striving  to  conform 

to  his  rules.  I have  learned  his  manner  of  speech ” 

“And  it  sounds  like  music  from  thy  lips.” 

“ Why,  Richard,  thou  hast  been  learning  to  compliment 
a poor  maiden  after  the  fashion  of  the  world  !” 

“Nay,  Julia,  it  was  the  untutored  impulse  of  my 
heart !” 

“ Then  nature  was  the  model  for  poets  ! And,  truly,  thy 
father  never  encouraged  thee  to  be  enraptured  of  sweet 
sounds.  Nevertheless,  I am  the  more  thankful  for  the 
compliment  as  it  cannot  be  a vain  and  empty  one.  Thou 
didst  ask  me  what  would  give  me  pleasure.  Flowers  and 
birds.  Gather  the  first  on  the  hills,  and  Paddy  Pence  will 
cultivate  them  for  me;  and  entice  the  birds  into  the  garden, 
rather  than  frighten  them  away,  as  thy  father  did  in  Bur- 
lington. But  how  can  I repay  thee  ? What  meanest  thou 
by  such  incessant  sighing  ?” 

“ How  repay  me  ? One  smile  is  enough — but  I — I 
declare  to  thee  I do  not  know  what  I do ! I will  strive  to 
correct  the  fault  of  sighing.” 

“ Do,  Richard.  I would  like  to  see  thee  cheerful.  Stay ! 
don’t  trample  upon  them !”  she  added,  quickly,  as  her 
companion’s  foot  was  suspended  over  a collection  of  blos- 
soms of  various  hues. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


17 


“ They  Mere  plucked,  Julia,  by  some  one  unknown  to  us. 
Thee  seems  to  study  them  as  if  thou  wert  superstitious. ” 

“I  am  a little  superstitious,  Richard,”  said  she,  smiling, 
as  she  collected  the  blossoms  and  enjoyed  their  perfume. 
The  next  moment  they  were  joined  by  Mr.  Schooley  and 
overtaken  by  the  carriage.  They  were  in  front  of  Ringo  s 
log  tavern,  where  they  were  welcomed  heartily. 

The  shades  of  evening,  and  the  descending  dew,  even  in 
May,  made  the  blazing  logs  in  the  broad  fireplace  product- 
ive both  of  a cheerful  aspect  and  a congenial  temperature. 

Our  travellers,  therefore,  after  a hearty  repast,  collected 
in  front  of  the  broad,  glowing  hearth. 

“ Come  in,  Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  seeing  his  man 
at  the  door,  “ and  eat  thy  supper.  I suppose  thee  has  fed 
the  horses  ?” 

“Plase  yer  honour,  not  yit.  I was  in  a quandary.” 

“My  man  Jake's  got  the  ager,”  said  Mr.  Ringo,  the 
host,  “or  he’d  a’  done  it.” 

“I  told  thee,  Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  “to  give 
them  corn  in  the  ear.*  In  that  way  they  are  not  likely 
to  eat  too  fast  and  become  foundered.  Do  you  not  under- 
stand me,  Patrick?” 

6 Yes,  yer  honour,”  said  Paddy,  bowing  and  withdrawing. 
But  in  a few  moments  he  reappeared  with  a bewildered 
look. 

“Well,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  “thee  has  fed  them?” 

“ Plase  yer  honour,  the  horses  have  good  enough  tathe 
in  their  mouths,  but  divil  the  one  could  I find  in  their  ears. 
And  how  could  I fade  ’em,  as  yer  honour  tould  me,  when 
they  wouldn’t  ate  wid  their  ears,  but  snatched  it  wid  their 
tathe.” 

In  the  laughter  which  followed  this  blunder  of  Paddy’s 
even  the  staid  Mary  and  the  melancholy  Richard  partici- 
pated. Paddy,  as  we  have  said,  was  a recent  importation, 
and  had  never  seen  any  corn  in  the  ear. 

Later  in  the  evening,  when  the  moon  shone  brightly, 
and  the  sinking  embers  threw  up  a crimson  glow  which 
illuminated  the  recesses  of  the  loft  above,  a howling  in  the 
woods  attracted  notice. 


* This  occurrence  has  been  recently  going  the  rounds  in  the  papers, 
an  editorial  friend  of  the  author  being  permitted  to  transcribe  it. 

2* 


18 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


44 What  is  that?”  asked  Julia. 

44  That,”  said  John  Ringo,  44  is  either  a wolf  or  an  In* 
dian.” 

“Murther!  Did  you  say  Indian,  Mr.  Rango?”  exclaimed 
Paddy,  rising  from  the  table,  and,  unbidden,  occupying  a 
stool  near  the  corner  of  the  capacious  fireplace. 

44  Or  a wolf,  Paddy,”  replied  Mr.  Ringo.  44  But  take  a 
dram,  and  I will  tell  you  what  took  place  here  one  night 
when  I was  a boy.” 

44  John,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  44  thee  must  not  tempt  Pa- 
trick to  drink.  We  still  have  a long  road  before  us.  But 
thou  mayest  tell  him  some  of  the  anecdotes  of  early  times. 
And  I see  Julia  is  impatient  to  hear  thee.  But  thy  lis- 
teners must  not  forget  that  thy  adventures  happened  many 
years  ago.” 

46  But,  father,”  said  Richard,  44  thee  heard  William 
Franklin  say ” 

44  Richard  ! thee  forgets  that  thou  art  not  permitted  to 
repeat  what  the  governor  said.” 

Richard  was  dumb. 

44 1 believe  the  governor*  intends  to  take  sides  against 
his  father,”  said  Ringo,  between  the  puffs  of  his  replenished 
pipe,  the  smoke  from  which,  although  it  seemed  to  ascend 
the  chimney,  nevertheless  perfumed  the  apartment. 

44  Pray  go  on  now,  Mr.  Ringo,”  said  Julia,  in  an  attitude 
of  attention. 

44  It  was  about  this  time  o’  night,”  said  Ringo,  44  and  at 
this  season  of  the  year,  the  moon  shining  brightly,  as  it  is 
now, — when  I was  a boy,  Paddy,” — he  added,  seeing  Paddy 
stretching  his  neck,  and  with  open  mouth  looking  toward 
the  window, — 44  that  we  heard  an  uncommon  howling.  The 
wolves  seemed  to  be  all  around  the  house,  and  a great  deal 
nearer  than  the  one  we  now  hear.” 

44  John,  dost  thee  hear  it  now  ?”  asked  Mrs.  Schooley, 
who  was  likewise  an  attentive  listener ; for  she  had  never 
before  accompanied  her  husband  to  his  western  estates. 

44 No;  he  is  silent,  now,”  said  John,  between  two  pro- 
longed puffs ; 44  and  it’s  likely  he’s  eating  one  of  my  pigs. 
On  the  night  I am  speaking  of,  there  was  an  old  man  by 
the  name  of  Jobes  with  us.  He  came  down  from  Sussex 


* He  was  a natural  son  of  Benjamin  Franklin 


SECOND  SERIES. 


19 


county,  where  he  had  lived  several  years,  and  had  often 
been  chased  by  the  Indians ; and  once,  while  he  was  ab- 
sent, two  of  his  sons  were  killed.  He  and  my  father  were 
making  a bargain  for  the  piece  of  land  you  saw  on  the  left, 
with  the  girdled  trees  on  it,  when  the  old  man  stopped 
talking,  and  said  they  were  not  wolves,  but  Indians,  howl- 
ing around  the  house.  And  soon  they  stopped  howling, 
and  began  to  hoot  like  owls.” 

46  Dost  thee  not  hear  an  owl  now,  John?”  asked  Mrs. 
Schooley. 

u I do,”  replied  Ringo,  after  expelling  a long  whiff  of 
smoke. 

64 Murther !”  cried  Paddy,  starting  up. 

44  Who’s  killing  you,  Paddy?”  asked  Ringo. 

66  Thee  must  not  forget  it  was  twenty  or  thirty  years 
ago,  Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley. 

“I  will  try  not,  yer  honour,”  replied  Paddy. 

44  We  looked  into  the  yard,”  continued  Mr.  Ringo,  44  and 
saw  a large  party  of  Indians  aiming  their  French  muskets 
at  us.  We  dodged  down.  You  can  see  the  bullet-marks 
on  that  side  now.” 

44  Murther  !”  said  Paddy,  drawing  closer  to  the  corner. 

44  Recollect  it  was  before  you  were  born,”  said  Julia, 
amused  at  Paddy’s  evidences  of  affright. 

44  Then,”  resumed  Mr.  Ringo,  44  we  rose  and  fired,  and 
when  the  smoke  cleared  away  there  was  not  an  Indian  to 
be  seen.” 

44  They  were  handsomely  defated,”  said  Paddy. 

44  They  were  not  gone  far,”  said  Ringo.  44  For,  when 
Jobes  peeped  out,  a bullet  came  in  and  cut  off  his  ear.” 

44  The  blackguard  savage  !”  said  Paddy. 

44  From  that  time  both  parties  were  more  cautious.  But 
we  were  besieged  till  morning,  when  we  heard  the  joyful 
sound  of  fire-arms  a short  distance  from  the  house,  which 
we  knew  to  be  the  signal  of  relief,  and  the  Indians  instantly 
disappeared.  Our  deliverers  were  from  the  block-house 
on  the  river,  and  had  been  following  the  trail  of  the  enemy. 
Since  that  night  we  have  never  been  molested. 

44  Wilt  thou  not  be  made  fearful,  Patrick,”  asked  Mr. 
Schooley,  44  listening  to  such  stories  ?” 

44  Niver  a bit,  yer  honour,  if  the  young  mistress  won’t 
be  frightened.  Bless  yer  life,  sir,  all  these  botherations 


20 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


happened  before  I was  born,  and  surely  before  the  young 
lady  iver  dramed  of  such  a thing.  Yer  honour,  I’ll  show 
you  I’m  not  afraid ! I’ll  go  to  the  stable  be  meself,  and  see 
if  the  horses  are  comfortable  ; and  airly  in  the  morning 
I’ll  have  the  shoe  faxed  at  the  shop  down  at  the  mill.” 
Paddy  walked  bravely  out  into  the  yard,  and  on  to  the 
gate,  upon  which  his  hand  was  resting,  when  he  espied  a 
solitary  horseman  coming  slowly  down  the  road.  He  stood 
undecided  whether  to  advance  or  retire,  until  the  stranger 
was  sufficiently  near  for  him  to  perceive  that  he  wore  a 
blanket  thrown  gracefully  ower  his  shoulders,  that  his  head 
was  surmounted  with  a crest  of  feathers,  and  that  he  held 
a gun  in  his  hand.  Then  Paddy  was  undecided  no  longer. 
Starting  back,  he  ran  into  the  house,  his  face  as  pale  as 
death  and  his  limbs  trembling  at  every  joint.' 

44  Why,  what  hast  thou  seen?”  demanded  Mrs.  Schooley. 
44  Tell  me,  Paddy,  what  it  is  !”  cried  Julia,  with  a smile. 
But  Paddy  was  almost  speechless,  and  could  barely 
articulate  the  word  44  Indian  !” 

Bingo  went  out  immediately,  followed  by  Mr.  Schooley 
and  Julia.  The  stranger  had  dismounted,  tied  his  horse  to  a 
tree,  and  was  standing  near  the  front  entrance  of  the  house. 
44  Who  are  you?”  demanded  Bingo. 

44  Thayendanegea,”  replied  the  Indian,  with  a lofty  brow 
and  erect  stature. 

44  That  means  Brandt,  in  English,”  said  Bingo,  ad- 
vancing. 64  How  do  you  do,  Brandt  ? I’m  glad  to  see  you. 
How  you  have  grown  since  I saw  you  last ! Why,  you  are 
a large  man,  now  !” 

44  Ay,  and  a sachem,”  said  the  young  chief,  smiling,  (for 
he  could  speak  our  language  very  well.)  44  But,  tell  me,  how 
high  was  the  moon  when  the  White  Eagle  departed  toward 
the  Kittaning  ?” 

44  White  Eagle  ?” 

44  Ay  : — my  white  brother.” 

44  You  mean  the  young  Cameron?” 

“Ay.” 

44  It  was  before  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.” 

44  And  who  was  with  him?  By  the  trail  I see  there  were 
two,  and  one  was  of  the  Lenni  Lenapp6  family,  of  which 
I too  am  descended.  His  totem  is  on  the  tree  at  the 
crossing,  a tortoise,  like  mine.  His  name  ?” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


21 


“We  call  him  Bart  Calvin, ” said  Bingo. 

“Ilis  name  is  Shawuskukhkung,”  said  Brandt,  without 
other  emotion  than  a slight  sneer  of  contempt.  “ It  is  the 
right  name,”  he  continued,  “ meaning,  in  your  language, 
Wilted  Grass.  The  wild-flower  perishes  in  the  hothouses 
of  the  pale-face,  and,  when  cooped,  the  eagle  becomes  a 
dunghill-fowl.  The  once  mighty  Algonquin  droops  like 
wilted  grass  ! Its  shrivelled  branches  should  be  bathed  in 
blood.” 

“Blood!”  said  Julia,  who  could  not  avoid  admiring  the 
form  and  poetry  of  the  speaker,  but  was  startled  at  the 
mention  of  the  sanguinary  remedy  for  the  resuscitation  of 
a decaying  race. 

“And  thou  art  the  fair  Antelope  which  charmed  the  eye 
of  the  young  eagle  ? Thayendanegea,  too,  can  write  with 
the  quill,  as  well  as  his  brother,  and  we  have  corre- 
sponded.” 

“ I have  often  heard  him  speak  of  thee,”  said  Julia, 
from  habit  using  the  terms  employed  in  the  family  of  her 
guardian;  “ and  he  loves  thee  as  a brother.” 

“ I hope  so,”  was  Brandt’s  laconic  reply. 

“ Come  in,”  said  Ringo.  “ Forgive  me,  Brandt,  for  my 
forgetfulness.” 

“ John,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  as  the  party  entered  the 
house,  “ thee  ought  never  to  forget  that  hospitality  is  one 
of  the  chief  virtues  in  the  estimation  of  the  Indian.” 

Mrs.  Ringo  did  not  forget  it;  and  the  table  was  soon 
spread,  and  honey  and  other  luxuries,  which  had  been 
hitherto  withheld,  were  placed  before  the  young  chief,  who 
partook  of  them  without  hesitation. 

“And  would  not  your  horse  like  to  have  a bite?”  asked 
Ringo. 

“A  little,”  said  Brandt.  “Not  much,  like  the  horses 
of  the  pale-faces.” 

“Paddy,”  continued  Ringo,  “you  know  my  hostler  has 
the  ager,  and  I can’t  leave  my  guest.  Won’t  you  bait* 
the  gentleman’s  horse  for  me?  You  needn’t  be  afraid  of 
his  taking  your  scalp.” 

“ Is  it  a bating  you  would  have  me  give  him?” 

“Yes,  Paddy,”  said  Ringo. 


* This,  too,  was  inserted  in  the  journal  of  the  author’s  friend. 


22 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ I’ll  do  it!”  said  Paddy,  quite  reassured  upon  seeing 
the  Indian  eating  like  other  people,  and  somewhat  enraged 
at  the  twinkle  of  Brandt’s  eye  when  he  recognised  him  as 
the  one  who  fled  from  the  gate. 

“ Thee  did  expect  to  meet  the  White  Eagle  and  Wilted 
Grass  at  this  place?”  interrogated  Mr.  Schooley. 

“ White  Eagle — not  Wilted  Grass.  His  speech,  left  at 
the  crossing,  says  the  Antelope  and  her  pale  friends  must 
fill  the  wigwam  here,  and  he  will  light  a camp-fire  some 
miles  distant  on  the  path,  which  will  guide  me  to  his 
couch.” 

“And  thou  didst  call  him  brother?” 

“ I did.  He  was  a pappoose  when  brought  to  our  wig- 
wam, and  lived  with  us  until  he  began  to  pluck  hairs  from 
his  chin.  We  swam,  and  fished,  and  hunted  together 
among  the  cool  lakes.  I had  lost  my  brother,  and  he  sup- 
plied his  place.  But  the  White  Head  came  and  removed 
him  to  the  college  of  the  pale-faces.  I will  see  him  once 
more.  If  he  loves  the  pale-faces  better  than  his  brother, 
he  will  desert  the  paths  of  the  forest.  Ha!”  he  ex- 
claimed, rising,  his  eyes  glowing  with  a sudden  fierceness 
as  he  heard  the  peculiar  snort  of  his  horse.  He  strode  to 
the  window,  and  in  amazement  beheld  Paddy  belabouring 
his  steed  with  a stout  branch  of  an  apple-tree,  which  he 
had  wrested  off  at  the  corner  of  the  orchard.  Every  time 
the  bough  descended  the  heels  of  the  animal  flew  up,  and 
Paddy  had  to  exercise  some  skill  in  dodging. 

Brandt  rushed  forth  into  the  road,  and,  seizing  the  halter 
and  the  bough  at  the  same  time,  after  bestowing  the  latter 
upon  the  shoulders  of  the  astonished  Paddy,  mounted  his 
steed  and  galloped  away. 

“ Murther!”  cried  Paddy,  running  into  the  house;  “he’s 
been  bating  me — the  wild  savage  blackguard ! If  I had 
thought  of  my  shelalah,  I’d  ’ave  broken  his  punkin-head 
for  him!” 

“Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley, — while  Julia  was  irre- 
sistibly diverted, — “why  didst  thou  beat  his  horse  ?” 

“ Bate  his  horse?  And  sure  Misther  Rango  tould  me  to 
bate  him.” 

“I  meant  a snack — a lunch — a bite  of  corn  ; but  a stupid 
Irishman  nevei*  knows  any  thing  in  this  country,”  said 
Ringo.  “And  the  Indian,”  he  continued,  evincing  much 


SECOND  SERIES. 


28 


vexation,  “ dashed  off  without  getting  an  explanation,  and 
it  may  cost  some  of  us  our  scalps  if  we  have  war  with 
them  again.” 

“And  it's  a stupid  Irishman,  is  it,  Mr.  Rango?”  cried 
Paddy,  who  had  been  touched  in  a tender  place.  “ Be  the 
powers,  if  you’ll  walk  out  on  the  grane  wid  me,  we’ll  see 
whose  head  is  the  softest!” 

“Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  “be  silent!  Thee  must 
never  have  any  strife  in  my  service.”  - 

“ I ax  yer  honour’s  pardon,”  responded  Paddy,  who 
could  not  abide  the  idea  of  being  discharged  in  such  a 
country  as  that. 

“ Heigho!”  sighed  Mrs.  Schooley,  and  then,  rising  in  all 
her  native  stateliness,  suggested  that  it  was  time  to  be  re- 
posing after  the  fatigues  of  the  journey. 

“And  Richard  must  have  thought  so  a long  time  ago,” 
added  Julia,  who  perceived  that  her  ungallant  beau  had 
succumbed  to  slumber  in  his  chair. 

After  a somewhat  lengthy  prayer  from  Mr.  Ringo,  who 
was  a Presbyterian, — the  stoical  Quakers  remaining  stead- 
fastly in  their  chairs, — the  ladies  wTere  conducted  into  an 
opposite  room,  while  the  male  portion  of  the  company  re- 
mained. It  was  thus  they  lodged  in  early  times.  Two 
rooms,  twenty  feet  square,  sufficed  for  twenty  lodgers. 

The  authentic  traditions,  which  we  follow  without  mate- 
rial deviation,  do  not  dwell  upon  the  mere  dreams  of  Julia 
Lane,  as  she  reposed  upon  her  couch  that  night,  with  the 
stars  blinking  upon  her  through  the  uncurtained  window. 
But  doubtless  the  flowers  she  had  found,  and  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  hieroglyphics  she  had  seen,  and  which  she 
had  been  taught  by  Charles  to  render  into  good  English, 
were  reproduced  in  her  slumbers. 


24 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


CHAPTER  III. 

t 

THE  MIDNIGHT  CAMP-FIRE  — MEETING  OF  THE  FOREST 
CHIEFS. 

While  our  travellers  are  slumbering  at  “The  Old  Ringo 
Tavern,”  we  will  accompany  Thayendanegea  to  the  camp 
of  the  White  Eagle  and  Wilted  Grass. 

Having  had  many  interviews  with  General  Gage  and 
Sir  William  Johnston,  Brandt  had  already  resolved  upon 
the  course  he  would  pursue  in  the  impending  conflict. 
And,  whatever  else  may  be  said  of  the  renowned  chief  by 
poets  and  historians,  it  can  never  be  truthfully  alleged  that 
he  was  prompted  in  his  action  by  either  a mercenary  mo- 
tive or  a cruel  disposition. 

A frown  contracted  the  young  chieftain’s  brow  as  he 
swept  past  the  cultivated  fields,  and  ever  and  anon  the  new 
foundations  laid  for  the  future  residences  of  the  encroach- 
ing white  man.  The  hills  and  valleys,  where  his  fathers 
had  chased  the  deer  from  remotest  ages,  were  to  be  torn 
asunder  by  the  ploughshare ; the  gurgling  streams,  which 
had  furnished  them  the  delicious  trout,  were  to  be  dammed 
by  the  millwright;  and  the  majestic  trees,  which  had  shel- 
tered them  in  the  solitudes  of  the  forest,  were  to  be  laid 
low,  and  the  familiar  haunts  of  the  spirits  of  the  great 
departed  were  to  be  desecrated  by  the  active  cupidity  :£ 
European  mercenaries.  Such  were  the  thoughts  which 
animated  the  young  chief,  as  he  pursued  his  solitary  way, 
and  stimulated  the  resolve  to  be  amply  revenged. 

It  was  near  the  hour  of  midnight  when  Brandt  per- 
ceived the  glimmer  of  a light  on  an  eminence  to  his  left. 
It  was  upon  a knoll  surrounded  by  ancient  oaks,  through 
the  interstices  of  which  the  sinking  embers  could  be  seen 
at  intervals.  It  had  been  one  of  the  favourite  camping- 
grounds  from  time  immemorial.  Brandt  had  not  revisited 
it  since  the  days  of  his  early  youth,  and  then  Charles  was 
with  him. 


MEETING  OF  CHARLES  AND  BRANDT. — P.  26. 


lit.  few  * 


SECOND  SERIES. 


25 


The  young  chief  dismounted  and  drew  near  the  sinking 
fire.  In  peace  or  war,  the  Indians  do  not  generally  have 
sentinels  at  night.  Brandt  found  the  two  young  men 
steeped  in  slumber;  but  the  light  was  not  sufficient  to  dis- 
tinguish their  faces.  Their  forms  merely  were  discernible 
as  they  lay  together  wrapped  in  their  blankets.  They  had 
made  use  of  the  decayed  forks  of  the  old  camp,  by  placing 
poles  across  and  forming  a shelter  of  bark.  The  rear  of 
the  camp  was  protected  by  the  fallen  trunk  of  a gigantic 
tree,  and  next  to  this  were  their  heads,  while  their  feet 
reached  nearly  to  the  fire. 

Brandt  stood  with  folded  arms,  gazing  intently.  Had 
he  been  an  enemy,  how  easily  he  might  have  dispatched 
them  both!  But  such  was  not  his  mission.  He  was  in 
quest  of  friends  and  coadjutors.  He  made  a single  'step 
forward,  as  if  to  rouse  them,  but  paused  abruptly.  In 
the  dusky  gloom  their  features  might  not  be  distinctly  re- 
cognised. He  turned  away  and  noiselessly  replenished 
the  fire.  He  then  approached  the  open  end  of  the  camp, 
and  stood  again  with  folded  arms  and  a thoughtful  brow. 

Charles  turned  uneasily  on  his  couch,  and  muttered  in 
his  dream  the  following  words: — 64 1 am  no  Indian;  I have 
no  savage  blood  in  my  veins.,, 

Brandt  started  forward  with  a horrible  scowl,  snatched 
the  tomahawk  from  his  belt,  and  flourished  it  menacingly 
over  Charles’s  head.  But  the  next  moment  the  shining 
weapon  was  replaced,  and  the  young  Mohawk  resumed  his 
meditative  attitude. 

The  dry  wood  was  now  crackling  and  blazing  brightly, 
and  the  whole  scene  became  distinctly  apparent.  At 
length  a smile  illuminated  the  handsome  features  of 
Brandt,  and,  taking  a reed  from  his  bosom,  played  one 
of  the  tunes  familiar  to  the  ears  of  Charles  when  gliding 
over  the  smooth  surface  of  the  Ontario  or  floating  in  the 
canoe  on  the  waters  of  the  gentle  Wyalusing.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  strain  Charles  rushed  forth,  and,  with 
the  words,  44  Brother!”  44  My  brother!”  the  young  men 
were  locked  in  each  other’s  arms.  It  had  been  five  years 
since  they  parted.  Before  that  event,  and  for  many  years 
previously,  they  had  been  inseparable.  Charles  had  been 
loved  and  treated  quite  as  well  as  the  lost  son  and  brother 
whose  place  he  had  been  chosen  to  fill.  No  word  of 

3 


2h 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


lamentation  for  the  dead  had  been  uttered  in  the  family 
after  the  first  month  of  his  adoption. 

After  a prolonged  silence,  they  sat  down  and  smoked 
the  pipe  which  Brandt  had  filled,  gazing  with  delight  and 
affection  at  each  other. 

Wilted  Grass  came  forth  and  sat  down  beside  them. 

“ Shawuskukhkung,”  said  Brandt,  extending  his  hand, 
“we,  too,  are  brothers.  We  flow  from  the  same  parent 
stream, — the  Algonquin, — and  come  from  the  same  Lenni 
Lenappe  family.  Why  should  we  widen  the  tract  which 
separates  us?” 

“ Thayendanegea  speaks  the  truth,”  replied  the  Dela- 
ware chief.  u But  streams  never  more  run  together  when 
parted  by  mountains.  I will  die  where  my  fathers  died.” 

“ But  not  live  as  they  did.  Your  hunting-grounds  are 
turned  into  pig-pens.” 

“ There  is  a land  beyond  the  grave — forests  where  the 
axe  never  sounds.  Such  are  the  peaceful  hunting-grounds 
of  my  fathers,  and  thither  I will  join  them.” 

“ True.  But  the  same  Great  Spirit  bestowed  upon  ns 
this  beautiful  land.  Will  it  please  him  if  we  meanly  sur- 
render it  to  the  trafficking  stranger,  from  whom  the  game 
flies  in  horror  and  disgust?  Can  a coward  enter  the  hunt 
ing-grounds  of  the  spirit-land,?” 

“ Thayendanegea,  I am  no  coward,”  said  the  Delaware. 

“ Tschichohocki  (Burlington)  was  once  the  village  of  a 
thousand  braves.  But  the  Mantas  came  from  the  slimy 
creeks,  and  licked  them  into  another  shape,  and  blew 
their  own  breath  down  their  throats,  and  swam  away  with, 
their  squaws  to  Matinicunk,  where  their  children  became 
frogs.” 

“ Frogs !” 

“ They  still  croak  upon  the  banks  of  the  Delaware 
River ; but  when  danger  approaches  they  close  their  eyes 
and  dive  dowm  to  the  bottom.” 

“And  do  you  mean  to  call  me  a frog  and  a coward?” 
demanded  the  young  Delaware,  rising  indignantly,  with  his 
hand  on  his  tomahawk.  , 

“I  do  not  raise  my  hand  against  the  Wilted  Grass,” 
said  Brandt,  with  imperturbable  composure.  “ When  the 
Great  Council  was  held  at  the  Forks  of  the  Delaware, 
your  people  were  all  women.  Teedyuscung,  your  heal 


SECOND  SEMES. 


27 


chief,  spake  without  rising,  like  a squaw,  until  Tagashata 
removed  the  petticoat  which  had  once  been  worn  at  a treaty. 
Then  he  was  a great  chief  again/ ’ 

“ He  was  always  a great  chief,”  said  the  Delaware,  re- 
suming his  seat  with  a sigh.  “At  that  council  he  removed 
the  French  hatchets  from  the  heads  of  the  English.  You 
and  I and  White  Eagle  were  present.  We  were  too  young 
to  listen ; but  we  were  told  afterward  by  our  fathers  what 
had  been  done.  The  nations  listened  to  Teedyuscung,  and 
made  solemn  pledges  of  peace.  The  Delawares  forget  not 
their  pledges.” 

“ The  Mohawks  do  not  violate  their  treaties,”  said 
Brandt.  “ The  Five  Nations  then  signed  a treaty  of 
friendship  with  their  Great  Father  over  the  broad  water 
They  will  keep  their  promise.” 

“ You  forget  what  the  Senecas  have  since  done,  insti- 
gated by  their  chief  Tagashata.  Five  years  after  the 
meeting  of  the  Great  Council  they  murdered  Teedyus- 
cung, and  falsely  said  the  English  had  perpetrated  the  foul 
deed.” 

“ Not  the  English,  but  the  Yankees,  who  were  seizing 
the  Susquehanna  valleys.  And  they  say  so  still.” 

“ But  they  say  falsely.  The  Minisinks  loved  Teed- 
yuscung, and  it  was  known  they  would  be  revenged.” 

“ Let  us  not  discuss  those  things,  my  brother,”  said 
Charles. 

“ No  !”  cried  Brandt,  springing  to  his  feet.  “ The  past 
is  gone  forever.  We  who  were  boys  are  men,  and  our 
fathers  have  gone  to  the  hunting-grounds  of  the  spirit-land 
unarmed  and  in  fetters.  Let  us  follow  them  with  our  rifles, 
that  they  may  eat.  It  was  you,  my  brother,  I wished  to 
go  with  us.  The  Wilted  Grass  will  bend  over  the  graces 
of  his  kindred.  But  the  nations  of  the  West  will  come  in 
multitudes,  like  the  leaves  and  the  stars.  The  blood  of 
our  enemies  will  run  into  the  sea,  like  the  rushing  streams 
after  a mighty  storm.  Let  your  face  not  be  white.” 

“The  Great  Spirit  made  it  white,”  said  Charles. 

“But  that  was  when  you  dwelt  beyond  the  broad  water. 
It  was  the  Great  Spirit  also  that  made  Thayendanegea  call 
the  White  Eagle  his  brother.” 

“ But  who  are  the  enemies  you  speak  of?” 

“ They  who  brought  the  small-pox  and  the  fire-water ; 


28 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


who  stop  our  running  streams  and  hack  down  our  trees 
The  elk  and  deer  have  fled  to  the  mountains,  the  buffalo  to 
the  plains  near  the  setting  sun.  Our  homes  are  desolate. 
The  wolf  and  the  owl  and  the  rattlesnake  only  remain. 
We,  the  lords  of  the  wilderness,  to  whom  the  Great  Spirit 
gave  the  whole  country,  now  flit  like  dusky  bats  in  the 
shadows  of  the  evening.  My  brother,  scalding  tears  roll 
down  my  cheeks.  It  is  the  last  time.  The  Great  Spirit 
calls  upon  us  once  more  to  hurl  the  invaders  from  our 
shores?  It  is  the  last  call.  Look  up  through  the  weeping 
leaves  at  the  stars.  During  many  thousands  of  moons 
they  smiled  on  our  happy  people.  The  song  of  joy  echoed 
through  the  valleys  around.  The  merry  dance  was  pro- 
longed till  morning  beneath  the  boughs  of  these  spreading 
oaks.  All  is  silent  and  desolate  now;  and  the  last  chief 
of  a mighty  race  stands  by  a solitary  camp-fire  and  mourns 
in  tears.  My  brother,  I dash  these  woman’s  tears  into 
the  ashes  at  my  feet.  The  spirits  of  my  fathers  shall  not 
grieve  for  the  bondage  of  their  son.  I will  break  the 
chains  the  white  man  has  drawn  around  me.  I will  die 
with  the  tomahawk  in  one  hand  and  a scalping-knife  in  the 
other.  I hurl  away  the  pipe  of  peace.  War  is  declared  !” 

“War  against  whom,  my  brother?”  asked  Charles. 

“ Against  whom  ? " Alas  ! I fear,  against  my  brother,  if 
he  will  not  fight  at  my  side.  Against  the  white  man ! 
First,  against  those  who  fell  our  trees  and  dig  our  grounds; 
next  against  the  army  of  King  George.  The  royalists  and 
the  rebels  shall  slaughter  each  other,  and  we  will  slay  the 
survivors.” 

“Ha!  ha!  Brandt,  you  are  mad!” 

“ I am.  And  there  is  no  time  for  idle  delay.  Will  the 
White  Eagle  return  with  his  brother  to  the  lakes  ?” 

“No;  not  if  my  brother  intends  to  come  back  and 
tomahawdc  my  father.  But  I will  go  with  him  if  he  will 
remain  at  peace.” 

“ Peace  ! My  brother  does  not  seem  to  know  that  the 
Five — or  rather  the  Six — Nations  have  already  sounded  the 
warwhoop.  Only  a fewr  trembling  Cayugas  and  Oneidas 
remain  with  their  women.  And  the  great  tribes  of  the 
West  are  echoing  the  scalp-halloo  from  the  war-paths  of  the 
mountains.  The  royal  governors  of  Pennsylvania,  New 
Jersey,  and  New  York,  have  sent  us  arms  and  money.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


2J> 

HI  feared  so,”  said  Charles,  despondingly. 

“ Feared,  brother?” 

6C  Not  for  myself.” 

“ Who,  then  ?” 

“ You,  and  thy  devoted  race.  My  brother,  our  Great 
Father  over  the  broad  water  is  a bad  man.  His  armies 
will  be  beaten.  The  Americans  will  triumph,  and  the  poor 
Indian  be  the  last  victim.” 

“ Farewell,  my  brother.  The  day  is  dawning.  I go  alone, 
unless  Shawuskukhkung  will  accompany  me.” 

“ I will  die  in  peace  by  the  graves  of  my  fathers  on  the 
sea-shore,”  said  Wilted  Grass,  his  head  drooping  on  his 
breast. 

Just  then  a hailing  halloo  was  heard  in  the  valley  below, 
where  the  path  diverged  from  the  main  road,  and  the  party 
in  the  camp  became  singularly  excited  at  so  unexpected  a 
salutation.  It  proceeded  evidently  from  a party  of  Indians 
or  from  men  familiarly  conversant  with  their  mode  of  shout- 
ing. Brandt  answered  it ; and  a few  minutes  after  three 
men — two  Indians  and  a tall  white  man — came  trotting  up  to 
the  encampment.  The  white  man  was  the  famous  Simon 
Girty,  who  had  been  dwelling  among  the  Western  Indians 
since  the  French  war,  and  had  been  taken  prisoner  about 
the  time  of  Braddock’s  defeat.  The  others  were  the  chiefs 
of  the  Shawnees  and  the  Ottoways, — Cornstalk  and  Pontiac. 

“ And  you  will  join  your  brother,  I suppose?”  said  Girty, 
in  the  English  language,  to  young  Cameron. 

“ I shall  remain  at  home  in  peace,  if  possible,”  said 
Charles. 

“ It  will  not  be  possible.  You  must  be  with  us  or 
against  us.  And  you  will  have  to  decide  without  delay. 
Already  preparations  are  being  made  in  every  direction. 
I am  now  returning  by  night  marches  from  a conference 
with  Lord  Dunmore,  the  Governor  of  Virginia,  and  with 
messages  for  the  Western  tribes.  A secret  treaty  has  been 
concluded  with  the  Ottoways  and  Shawnees,  and  we  are 
authorized  to  engage  the  Creeks,  Cherokees,  Potowottomies, 
Wyandots,  and  all  the  other  powerful  tribes,  to  fall  upon 
the  rebels.  And  the  rebels  are  about  to  appoint  George 
Washington  their  general.  There  will  be  stirring  times ” 

UI  will  not  stir,  if  I can  help  it.  I will  not  take  up 
arms  against  the  colonists,  who  have  demanded  nothing 

3* 


30 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


but  justice  from  their  oppressor.  And,  Gifty,”  he  con 
tinued,  in  a low  tone,  “ beware  what  you  do.  You  know, 
I,  too,  was  a prisoner,  and  have  had  an  opportunity  to 
learn  something  of  the  intention  of  the  Indians.” 

“ I know  what  you  mean.  They  propose  assisting  the 
British  to  destroy  the  Americans,  and  then  exterminating 
their  ally.  You  and  I are  aware  of  the  impossibility  of 
such  a thing.  But,  if  it  were  practicable,  it  would  be  our 
best  policy  to  become  red  men.” 

“ Once  more,  my  brother,”  said  Brandt,  approaching 
Charles,  “ I ask  you  to  go  with  us.” 

“No!”  said  Charles. 

“ Then,  farewell ! But,  if  we  should  meet  again  in 
bloody  strife,  still,  let  us  remember  we  were  brothers.” 

“ I would  have  it  so,  Thayendanegea.  But  I have  no 
desire  to  spill  any  man’s  blood,  and  I hope  this  war  may 
be  smothered  in  its  birth.  I go  to  see  my  gray-haired 
father ; after  that,  I know  not  what  I shall  do.  I did 
hope  to  fish  and  hunt  with  my  brother  on  the  head- waters 
of  the  Susquehanna.  But  such  may  not  be  if  the  scalp- 
halloo  reverberates  through  the  valleys.  Give  this  to  the 
Brown  Thrush,  my  sister.  Tell  her  the  White  Eagle  will 
dream  of  her,  although  he  may  not  see  her.” 

Brandt  opened  the  casket  which  had  been  placed  in  his 
hand,  and  glanced  at  the  jewels  that  were  to  adorn  his 
sister’s  brow  and  wrists;  and  then,  gazing  silently  and 
long  at  his  white  brother,  turned  slowly  away  and  joined 
the  departing  guests,  who  had  completed  the  scanty  meal 
which  had  been  placed  before  them. 

And  Charles  and  his  Delaware  companion  followed  soon 
after.  They  had  not  proceeded  more  than  a mile,  how- 
ever, when  they  beheld  Brandt  returning  at  a brisk  pace. 

“My  brother,”  said  Brandt,  “when  the  Brown  Thrush 
shall  look  upon  these  presents,  she  will  wish  to  know  how 
long  the  White  Eagle  means  to  stay  aw7ay.  She  will  ask 
me  if  thou  art  betrothed  to  the  lovely  Antelope  of  whom 
thou  hast  written  more  than  once.  What  shall  Thayen- 
danegea say  ?” 

“Say  I am  not  betrothed  to  the  fair  maiden:  only 
that  she  was  as  kind  to  me  as  a sister,  when  I had  no  other 
friend.  I will  see  the  Brown  Thrush  again ; I know  not 
when.  You  can  speak  for  me.’ 


SECOND  SERIES. 


31 


“ The  Antelope  is  very  beautiful.  I have  seen  her/’ 
“When?” 

“ Last  night.  And  I saw  thy  tokens.  But  I will  not 
tell  my  sister.  She  would  be  broken-hearted,  and  sing  no 
more.  Farewell — if  thou  wilt  not  go  with  me.” 

“Farewell!”  said  Charles,  and  the  chief  rode  furiously 
away. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

THE  FOREST  HOME — NIGHT  SCENE. 

The  sun  was  descending  in  the  azure  west,  when  the 
carriage  suddenly  paused.  It  had  reached  the  summit  of 
the  Jenny  Jump  Mountain,  in  the  southern  part  of  Sussex 
county. 

“ Why  hast  thou  stopped,  Patrick  ?”  asked  Mr.  Schooley, 
as  he  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  window,  and  to  do  which 
it  was  necessary  for  him  to  remove  the  broad-brimmed  hat 
from  his  head. 

“Plase  yer  honour,  the  horses  had  a dazziness  in  their 
heads,  and  I was  afraid  they’d  fall  off  the  mountain.  It’s 
so  high,  yer  honour,  it  almost  takes  my  breath.” 

Mr.  Schooley  descended  to  the  ground,  and  stood  for 
several  moments  gazing  at  the  scene.  There  were  no  pre- 
cipices near,  and  the  surface  was  almost  level  on  the  emi- 
nence where  the  horses  stood.  But  the  surrounding 
scenery  was  sublime,  gilded  by  the  golden  tints  of  the  de- 
clining sun.  Behind  was  the  Musconetcong  Mountain, 
which  they  had  passed  several  hours  previously,  and  before 
them  rose  the  Blue  Mountain,  enclosing  the  intermediate 
space,  like  the  walls  of  an  impregnable  fortress..  Far  to 
the  left,  but  distinctly  perceptible,  a depression  in  the  range 
indicated  the  locality  of  the  Delaware  Gap,  and  seemed  to 
be  the  only  outlet  from  the  vast  enclosure — the  stupendous 
battlements  on  either  hand  being  some  two  thousand  feet 
in  height. 

Not  many  settlements  now  met  the  view.  Some  five  oi 


32 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


six  primitive  farm-houses  were  all  that  could  be  discovered 
in  a diameter  of  several  miles.  But  near  the  base  of  the 
hill  called  the  Jenny  Jump  Mountain,  which  attained  an 
elevation  of  some  six  or  eight  hundred  feet,  was  a massive 
stone  structure,  being  the  church  edifice  of  a small  colony 
of  Moravians,  founded  by  the  good  Count  Zinzendorf. 

Even  the  stoicism  of  Thomas  Schooley  yielded  for  a 
moment  to  the  enthusiastic  admiration  inspired  by  the 
landscape ; and  he  turned  to  the  carriage-door  and  beck- 
oned Julia,  who  had  just  awakened  from  a short  slumber, 
to  join  him.  She  did  so  with  alacrity,  and  stood  enrap- 
tured, gazing  at  the  spectacle.  Then  she  uttered  incessant 
exclamations  of  delight,  while  the  staid  Mrs.  Schooley  and 
the  sober  Richard  listened  with  imperturbable  gravity. 

“ Thee  seems  to  be  pleased  with  the  features  of  the 
country,”  remarked  Mr.  Schooley,  his  rigid  lips  relaxing 
almost  into  a smile. 

“ Oh,  enchanted !” 

“ But  if  there  were  fewer  hills  and  rocks,  and  more  acres 
of  arable  land,  both  thee  and  I would  be  the  richer,”  said 
Mr.  Schooley. 

“And  yet  Mr.  Green  WTote  us  that  there  were  many 
arable  slopes  and  valleys,”  said  Julia. 

“ True ; Samuel  did  say  so,  and  he  is  a good  judge  of 
land.  No  doubt  he  made  good  selections  for  himself.  That 
is  his  house  on  the  hill  near  the  church.” 

“ Can  we^not  see  the  house  we  are  to  occupy?” 

“ Thee  can  see  it,  but  indistinctly,  to  the  left  of  the  vil- 
lage.” 

“ Where  there  is  a forest  of  dead  trees?” 

“ Yea ; they  stand  in  the  largest  field,  and  were  girdled 
by  William  Van  Wiggens,  our  overseer.” 

“ Girdled  ? And  did  that  kill  the  trees  ?” 

“ Thee  must  not  think  he  belted  them  with  gaudy  ribbon, 
as  thee  sometimes  does  thy  frail  waist.  What  is  meant  by 
girdling  is  the  cutting  round  the  tree  through  the  bark, 
which  prevents  the  sap  from  ascending,  and  the  tree  dieth, 
just  as  the  doctors  say  the  habit  of  tightly  belting  the  hu- 
man chest  produces  disease  and  death.” 

“But,  Thomas,  why  should  William  Van  Wiggens  kill 
the  poor  trees  ?” 

“ He  did  it  by  my  direction.  In  the  autumn  the  storms 


SECOND  SERIES. 


33 


and  the  axe  will  remove  the  trunks,  and  then  we  will  have 
lields  which  may  be  cultivated  with  profit.  To  the  right  of 
the  opening,  if  thee  will  look  steadily,  thee  may  see  the 
roof  of  the  house  we  are  to  dwell  in.” 

“ I see  it ! A long,  double,  two-story  log-house ! And  1 
see  the  barn,  and  the  orchard  beyond,  and  cows  grazing 
within  it.  Oh,  I am  so  impatient  to  be  there ! I shall  be 
delighted,  Thomas,  with  our  forest  home.  And  it  has  a 
southern  aspect,  sloping  gently  down  to  the  meandering 
ravine.  Flowers  will  flourish  there.  And  is  there  not  a 
brook  of  crystal  water  flowing  through  the  ravine  ?” 

“ Yea ; a beautiful  stream,  that  empties  into  the  Paulins- 
kill.  It  has  many  trout  in  it ; but  I have  never  taken  any 
of  them,  and*  Richard  has  no  taste  for  idle  sports.” 

“ Oh,  let  us  be  going ! I am  impatient  to  be  at  home  in 
the  wilderness,  and  to  explore  every  grove  and  rock  and 
cave  and  streamlet !” 

When  they  resumed  their  seats,  Paddy  found  no  difficulty 
in  proceeding,  as  the  horses  seemed  to  be  recovered  from 
their  dizziness.  And,  as  they  descended  from  the  summit 
of  the  Jenny  Jump,  Mr.  Schooley  endeavoured  to  describe 
to  his  family  the  condition  of  things  they  must  be  prepared 
to  encounter  at  their  new  home.  Nor  had  the  far-seeing 
Quaker  neglected  to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for 
his  removal  to  a place  of  supposed  security.  The  preced- 
ing year  he  had  contracted  with  some  of  the  numerous 
family  of  Stouts,  and  Mr.  Green,  to  have  him  a dwelling 
and  the  usual  out-houses  completed  by  the  ensuing  spring ; 
and  he  had  gent  up  Van  Wiggens  with  several  slaves  (the 
Quakers  then  were  slaveholders)  to  girdle  the  trees  for  a 
new  field  and  to  raise  a crop  of  corn. 

The  site  had  once  been  the  abode  of  a squatter,  without 
any  title  to  the  land,  and  the  rude  hut  he  had  occupied  was 
now  the  hen-house.  But  there  remained  more  than  a hun- 
dred noble  fruit-trees  of  his  planting,  now  in  perfect  ma- 
turity ; and  there  were  several  acres  of  well-cleared  land 
in  the  immediate  vicinity,  a portion  of  which  had  been  en- 
closed for  a garden,  and  was  to  be  under  the  special  super- 
intendence of  Paddy  Pence,  directed  by  the  fair  Julia. 

Farming  implements,  articles  of  furniture,  and  other  in- 
dispensable household  goods,  had  been  sent  up  from  time  to 
time  in  barges  Van  Wiggens  had  superintended  every 


84 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


tiling  In  his  eyes  the  house  was  a palace  and  the  lands 
a princely  estate ; for  he  was  descended  from  one  of  the 
original  Dutch  families  that  lived  and  died  on  the  broken 
hills  of  the  highlands  on  the  Hudson.  And  now  he  was  to 
receive  his  reward.  Fifty  acres  of  good  land  at  the  foot 
of  a hill  in  the  vicinity  were  to  be  his  own,  to  be  conveyed 
to  him  and  his  heirs  forever.  Nor  was  this  alk  Thomas 
Schooley  was  to  furnish  him  with  the  implements  of  a 
blacksmith-shop,  William  having  learned  the  trade  in  a 
Dutch  smithy.  The  anvil,  the  bellows,  &c.  were  already 
on  the  way,  and  Van  Wiggens  ought  to  have  been  a happy 
man  and  his  wife  a happy  woman,  for  they  had  been  re- 
cently married. 

At  length  the  travellers  were  at  the  end  of  their  journey, 
and  William  Van  Wiggens  and  his  wife  Joan  stood  at  the 
door  to  receive  them.  Julia  bounded  from  the  carriage, 
and  was  the  first  to  receive  their  greetings. 

46  Why,  William, ” said  she,  44  you  and  Joan  look  as  se- 
dately as  an  old  married  couple/’  Joan  was  older  than 
her  husband;  but  girls  wTere  not  so  abundant  in  those 
days. 

44  Yes,  miss,  I’m  dirty,”  said  Van  Wiggens,  who  could 
not  easily  pronounce  the  th , 44 and  my  vife  is  dirty-two.” 

44  He  means  thirty-two,”  said  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens. 

Julia  continued  onward,  laughing  heartily,  until  she  was 
arrested  by  Rose, — a very  black  rose, — who  had  nursed  her 
when  an  infant,  and  who  now  attempted  to  lift  her  up  in 
her  arms. 

44  My  sweet  mistress — my  baby  dear — come  to  lib  wid 
old  Rose ! I blesses  de  very  arth  you  treads  on  ! Why, 
Julie,  you  are  a woman  now.  Gor  bless  your  happy  little 
heart  !” 

44 1 have  a large  heart,  Rose,  and  it  beats  with  true  affec- 
tion for  my  kind,  faithful  nurse.  Release  me  now.  I must 
6ee  my  room  and  gaze  out  of  the  window.  There ! That 
is  my  sweet  wood-robin  in  the  pear-tree.  Listen ! It  is  a 
song  of  welcome.” 

44  Oh,  Miss  Julie,”  said  Rose,  following,  44  de  trees  are 
full  of  ’em.  Dey  sing  from  morning  to  night.  In  de 
night  de  owls  come  after  ’em ; but  I knew  you  wouldn’t 
have  ’em  eaten  up,  and  so  I made  Sambo  shoot  de  big- 
headed varmints.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


“ Thank  yon,  Rose,”  said  Julia,  who  had  found  her 
chamber,  and  was  now  standing  before  a plain  bureau, 
upon  which  stood  a small  mirror,  arranging  her  hair. 

“Yes,  Julie,  and  I made  Sambo  dig  up  all  de  pretty 
flowers  in  de  woods  and  plant  ’em  for  you  in  de  garden.” 

“ Thank  you,  thank  you,  Rose ; but  I hope  he  did  not 
dig  quite  all,  as  I am  also  fond  of  seeing  them  wild  in  the 
forest.” 

“Lor’  bless  your  sweet  life,  I don’t  mean  ebery  one! 
Goodness ! dere’s  more  flowers  in  de  woods  dan  all  de 
niggers  in  Jarsey  could  dig  up  in  a lifetime.  But,  Julie, 
dere’s  some  frightful-looking  snakes  in  de  woods,  too.” 
“No  rose  without  its  thorn,  Rose.” 

“ Dat’s  edzactly  what  master  used  to  say.  But  you  can 
tie  some  bark  on  your  legs  like  de  Deckers  did,  and  den 
dey  can’t  hurt  you.” 

“I  don’t  understand  you,  Rose.” 

“Dey  peel  de  bark  off*  de  young  chestnut-trees  and 
wrap  it  round  der  legs,  and  de  snakes  can’t  bite  through  it.” 
“ Oh,  I understand.  But  I will  keep  out  of  their  reach. 
Is  there  any  one,  Rose,  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  can  tell 
long  stories  of  winter  evenings  about  the  Indians  and  the 
wild  beasts  ?” 

“ Lor’  bless  you,  Mr.  Green  will  set  in  de  chimley-corner 
and  talk  all  night  if  anybody’ll  listen.  And  he’ll  make 
your  blood  run  cold  wid  his  frightful  tales.  And  de  Indians 
does  come  sometimes ; but  dey’re  friendly.  Den  dere’s 
bears,  and  painters,  and  catamounds  ! — I’m  afraid  your  little 
heart’ll  be  frightened  out  ob  you.” 

“Not  it ! You  know,  Rose,  I was  never  a fearful  girl. 
I am  sure  I shall  be  charmed.  I like  the  wild  woods — - 
though  I would  have  no  objection  to  a few  neighbours  of  the 
right  sort.  I suppose  there  are  some  agreeable  people 
living  near — I mean  within  three  or  four  miles, — besides 
the  Stouts  and  Mr.  Green?” 

“Precious  few,  I tell  you.  Dere’s  one  man  living  at 
de  Jenny  Jump  cliff*,  in  a kind  ob  crow’s-nest  ob  a house. 
But  I neber  saw  anybody  who  had  been  in  it,  ’cept  Hugh 
MacSwine,  his  agent,  and  he’s  as  sour  as  a green  persim- 
mon, and  dey  tink  de  master’s  as  surly’s  de  man.  ’ 

“What  is  his  name,  Rose?” 

“Dey  call  him  Cameron.” 


36 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


u That  will  do,  Rose.  You  had  better  go  to  Mrs.  Schooley 
now.  She  may  require  your  services,  and  I can  take  care 
of  myself.” 

Left  alone,  Julia  pondered  in  silence  over  the  discovery 
she  had  made.  She  was  not  really  in  love  with  Charles, 
but  she  admired  him,  and  she  had  reason  to  believe  the 
friendly  feeling  was  reciprocal.  She  had  heard  much  and 
read  much  of  the  magic  influence  of  love;  but  she  could 
not  believe  she  was  then  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
swayed  by  its  mysterious  fascinations.  She  felt  not  the 
slightest  alarm,  and  perhaps  she  could  not  have  been  made 
sensible  of  her  peril. 

During  the  first  day  after  their  arrival,  the  Burlington 
family  were  engaged  in  explorations  within  and  without  the 
house.  The  dwelling  was  quite  spacious  in  dimensions,  and, 
although  neither  plastered  nor  papered,  the  fireplaces 
seemed  sufficiently  ample  to  heat  the  apartments  in  winter, 
and  ther^  would  certainly  be  no  scarcity  of  fuel.  And  the 
rooms  seemed  to  be  furnished  with  everv  thing;  needful  for 
the  substantial  comfort  of  the  occupants.  Indeed,  but  few 
articles  of  fancy  were  to  be  found  in  the  parlours  of  the 
most  wealthy  city  Quakers. 

Mrs.  Schooley  was  pleased — at  least  uncomplaining, — and 
Julia  seemed  really  delighted.  The  climbers — Cocculus 
Carolinus  and  Yitus  rotundifolia — which  had  been  sent  up 
were  living  where  they  had  been  planted,  on  each  side  of 
the  main  entrance.  Then  there  was  the  garden,— an  acre, 
at  least, — and  it  had  been  enclosed  with  rude  palings.  There 
were  rose-bushes  (mainly  the  beautiful  and  fragrapt  da 
mask)  and  lilacs  at  the  corners  of  the  borders.  The  fruit- 
trees  were  in  blossom,  and  the  birds  in  full  song. 

The  lowing  cows  came  up  from  the  wild  pasture  to  be 
milked,  the  pigs  squealed  in  the  pen  for  their  food,  and  the 
fowls  cackled  in  the  barnyard.  All  was  freshness  and 
novelty,  and  Julia  ran  from  one  object  of  admiration  to 
another  like  a gleesome  school-girl.  And  Richard  did  his 
utmost  to  please  her.  He  worked  all  day  in  the  field  with 
the  slaves,  and  at  eve  brought  in  such  blossoms  as  he  could 
find  among  the  bushes  in  the  woods,  mostly  white  and 
purple — the  Cercis  Canadensis  and  Cornus  Florida. 

Julia  was  thankful  for  every  thing  and  to  every  one,  and 
always  happy.  A large  black  Newfoundland  dog  on  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


37 


place  became  attached  to  her,  and  was  her  inseparable 
companion  whenever  she  emerged  from  the  house.  This 
was  a great  satisfaction,  as  it  would  not  have  been  prudent 
for  her  to  venture  on  the  extensive  rambles  she  meditated, 
without  some  sort  of  a protector.  Richard  was  too  indus- 
trious to  lose  any  time  in  that  way,  and  the  corn  was  yet 
anplanted.  But  Solo  was  a sufficient  guard  and  com- 
panion. 

During  the  first  week  of  her  sojourn  at  her  forest-home, 
Julia  had  been  visited  by  Charles;  and  they  laughed  heartily 
over  the  subject  of  his  picture  and  flower-writing,  which 
had  been  so  mysterious  or  unmeaning  a thing  to  Richard 
and  his  unsophisticated  parents. 

But,  if  there  were  mysteries  hidden  from  the  old  folks, 
they  likewise  possessed  their  secret,  of  which  the  young 
people  had  never  dreamed.  Charles  and  Julia  had  been 
aware  of  the  frequent  conferences  held  with  Mr.  Green,  the 
surveyor,  but  could  never  have  supposed  the  discussion 
referred  to  themselves  or  could  in  the  slightest  degree 
affect  their  interests. 

They  were  not,  however,  to  remain  long  in  ignorance. 
The  time  appointed  for  the  “ shadows  of  coming  events”  to 
cross  their  path  was  at  hand.  A few  hours  more,  and  new 
subjects  of  meditation  would  be  presented  to  them ; but 
the  short  interval  before  the  announcement  was  passed  in 
almost  perfect  bliss,  which  is  so  often  succeeded  in  this 
world  by  unhappiness. 

Tea  was  just  over.  Richard  had  departed  to  the  field, 
accompanied  by  the  slaves,  to  labour  for  an  hour  in  the 
night,  and  Mr.  Green,  as  usual,  had  come  to  talk  away  the 
evening  with  the  old  people.  Charles  and  Julia  sallied 
forth,  accompanied  by  the  faithful  Solo,  to  witness  a spec- 
tacle which  Richard  had  promised  them, — an  idea  originated 
by  Richard  himself,  and  inspired,  as  he  said,  by  the  desire 
to  exhibit  something  that  would  be  magnificent  in  Julia’s 
eyes.  But  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  attend  her 
during  the  evening.  His  time  and  labour  would  be  required 
in  the  field.  Charles,  no  doubt,  would  be  willing  to  accom- 
pany her. 

It  was  truly  to  be  a spectacle  of  great  grandeur  and 
sublimity.  For  days  the  fallen  boughs  of  the  d .-  id  trees 
had  been  piled  around  the  bases  of  the  standing  trunks, 


38 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


and  now,  as  the  darkest  hues  of  night  were  descending  on 
the  wild  landscape,  the  heaps  of  dry  wood  were  to  be 
ignited  by  the  torches  flitting  between 

Charles  and  Julia  stood  upon  a knoll  a few  hundred 
yards  distant  from  the  scene,  and  Solo  lay  at  their  feet. 
During  the  hush  that  prevailed  in  the  moment  of  expecta- 
tion, a whippoorwill,  frightened  from  the  field,  perched  upon 
a rock  in  their  immediate  vicinity  and  uttered  his  mono- 
tonous wail.  Ever  and  anon  a panic-stricken  hare  bounded 
past,  which  Solo  would  pursue  no  farther  than  he  could  see 
it  by  starlight. 

Ere  long  a deep  red  glare  appeared  on  the  dense  woods 
which  surrounded  the  field,  and  it  wTas  faintly  visible  on 
the  faces  of  the  young  couple,  while  Solo’s  eyes  resem- 
bled balls  of  fire.  Some  forty  piles  of  dry  boughs  sent 
up  their  startling  flames,  roaring  like  an  approaching 
hurricane. 

“ Beautiful!  Seethe  tall  pines!”  exclaimed  Julia,  re- 
leasing Charles’s  arm,  and  clapping  her  hands  together. 
But,  in  the  movement,  the  mantle  which  had  enveloped  her 
fell  to  the  ground.  Charles  lifted  it  up  and  replaced  it, 
gently  encircling  her  form  with  his  arm 

The  trunks  of  the  gigantic  trees,  charged  with  inflam- 
mable resin,  soon  presented  great  columns  of  fire,  rising 
high  in  the  air.  The  illumination  revealed  the  duskj> 
forms  of  distant  mountains,  appearing  like  huge  monsters 
reposing  in  the  night ; and,  as  the  flames  leaped  upward, 
the  whirling  sparks  seemed  to  mingle  with  the  stars.  Solo 
looked  at  the  face  of  his  mistress,  and  uttered  a piteous 
whine. 

“Poor  Solo!”  said  she;  “he  seems  to  think  we  are  in 
danger.” 

“And  really,  Julia,”  said  Charles,  gazing  at  her  delicate 
features,  “you  are  very  pale.” 

“It  is  the  contrast  between  the  light  and  shade.  The 
reflection  on  one  side  of  your  face  makes  the  other  seem 
like  marble.  I never  felt  less  fear  in  my  life.  And,  pray, 
what  is  there  to  frighten  me?” 

“ Nothing,  that  I am  aware  of;  and  I am  sure  no  injury 
can  result  from  the  magnificent  conflagration  before  us. 
And  yet,  I confess,  there  is  a singular  weight  oppressing 


simultaneously 

them. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


me, — a sort  of  indescribable  pain  which  is  sometimes  the 
premonition  of  a dreadful  event/’ 

“ Dreadful  event?  And  what  could  that  be?” 

“ I know  not,  Julia,  unless  it  be  a separation  from  thee, 
and  being  forced  into  the  scene  of  strife  which  may  follow 
the  unhappy  differences  between  the  parent  country  and 
the  colonies.* 

“ And  that  would  be  a dreadful  event?’ 

“Undoubtedly.” 

“ It  would  indeed  be  terrible  to  see  the  fires  of  civil 
war,  and  of  a war  of  invasion,  lighting  the  hills  and  val- 
leys with  the  destruction  of  happy  homes,  while  the  red 
glare  of  the  conflagrations  would  rest  upon  the  faces  of 
thousands  of  miserable  outcasts,  as  the  reflection  of  these 
flames  is  resting  upon  ours.  Perhaps  your  depression  may 
be  the  result  of  some  such  apprehension  as  that.” 

“ It  may  be — certainly  must  be — in  part.  But  to  think 
of  the  blood  that  must  be  spilled,  the  great  guns  and 
gleaming  swords  of  the  civilized  nations,  and  the  whoop 
and  scalping-knife  of  the  impetuous  savages ! — Julia,  what 
would  become  of  thee  ? In  such  a contest  neither  sex,  age, 
or  condition,  would  be  respected.” 

“ Me?  Oh,  I should  not  have  a particle  of  fear.  I do 
not  think  any  one  could  harbour  a purpose  of  harming  me. 
I have  never  injured  any  one.” 

“ You  know  not  what  would  happen.” 

“ No.  Nor  would  I desire  to  know  beforehand.  But  I 
think  I should  meet  my  fate  with  a brave  heart.  Mercy 
on  us !”  she  exclaimed,  starting  back  and  clinging  involun- 
tarily to  Charles. 

The  largest  tree  in  the  field,  which  had  been  for  some 
time  completely  enveloped  in  curling  flames,  fell,  with  a 
thundering  sound,  and  with  its  top  toward  the  young 
couple. 

“ Ha ! ha ! Julia,”  said  Charles,  “it  is  a full  quarter  of 
a mile  distant.” 

“ It  seemed  as  if  it  would  reach  us.  Let  us  return. 
Why,  Solo !”  she  continued,  as  her  dog  sprang  up  and 
barked  fiercely  at  some  object,  apparently  but  a short 
distance  from  them,  in  the  almost  impenetrable  thicket 
behind. 

“ It  is  a fox,  perhaps,  or  a cat.  I could  soon  ascertain. 


40 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


Yet  it  is  hardly  necessary,”  said  Charles,  yielding  to  Julia’* 
inclination  to  depart.  “ But,”  he  continued,  somewhat 
sadly,  as  they  proceeded  slowly  toward  the  house,  “the 
horrors  of  both  a civilized  and  a savage  warfare  may  be  in 
fearful  proximity,  and  we  should  be  prepared  for  the  worst. 
You  are  the  only  friend  I possess,  Julia — I mean  among 
the  white  people, — and  I shall  be  very  unhappy  if  any  evil 
befalls  you.” 

“Do  you  really  think  there  is  danger  here?”  she  asked, 
quickly. 

4 Not  more  than  there  would  be  elsewhere.  My  father 
says  the  battles  will  be  fought  between  the  cities  of  New 
York  and  Philadelphia.  The  oldest  settlements  will  be 
the  scenes  of  the  greatest  carnage.  He  deems  the  con- 
flict inevitable,  and  I believe  in  his  prescience.  No  doubt 
roving  bands  of  Indians  will  descend  from  the  lakes — ” 

“And  will  they  join  the  British?” 

“Yes,  too  many  of  them.  But  they  have  a supersti- 
tious reverence  for  the  Moravians,  and  for  their  founder, 
Zinzendorf.  With  them,  if  danger  assails  thee,  thou 
mayest,  perhaps,  find  safety.” 

“I  will  remember.  But  thy  father?  Why  has  he  not 
been  to  see  us?” 

“ He  sees  no  one,  for  reasons  he  will  not  explain.  Suf- 
fice it  that  he  is  experienced  in  war,  and  has  led  thousands 
to  the  conflict.  His  counsel  is  to  be  respected.  But  he 
will  never  draw  his  own  sword  again.  He  desires  to  live 
and  die  in  the  solitude  of  his  chosen  seclusion.  You  will 
see  him  some  day,  I trust;  and  he  will  please  you  and 
be  pleased,  I am  sure.  You  will  find  he  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  associate  with  princes ; but  do  not  mention  this, 
Julia.” 

“ I will  not ; but  why  not?” 

“No  matter,  now.  Here  is  your  guardian  and  Mr. 
Green  coming  to  meet  us.  Mr.  Schooley  beckons  me 
away.  Mr.  Green  will  conduct  you  in.  Adieu — if  we 
should  not  meet  again  to-night.” 

They  were  approaching  the  huge  stile  in  front  of  the 
house,  when  Mr.  Schooley  called  the  young  man  aside. 

“ Thou  hast  been  witnessing  a grand  scene,  Charles.  The 
ashes  will  be  good  manure,  and  there  will  be  a larger  space 
for  the  plough.  But  it  seemed  like  a pity  to  destroy  so 


SECOND  SERIES. 


41 


much  wood,  which  would  have  been  very  valuable  in  some 
places.  ” 

“It  was  a fine  sight  for  Julia, ” said  Charles;  “but  I 
have  witnessed  larger  conflagrations. ” 

“ When  thee  dwelt  among  the  Indians,  thee,  no  doubt, 
saw  whole  forests  in  flames.  ” 

“Yes,  and  vast  plains,  one  sheet  of  roaring  fire.” 

“ What  destruction  of  vegetation!  and  by  those,  too,  in- 
capable of  appreciating  its  uses  and  value ! But  I desired 
to  speak  with  thee,  Charles,  in  relation  to  thy  father.” 

“ My  father,  sir !” 

“ Thee  need  not  be  surprised.  He  is  my  neighbour ; 
and  thee  knows  the  Bible  says,  6 Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbour  as  thyself.’  And  how  may  that  be  done  where 
neighbours  never  meet  and  do  not  see  each  other?  Ac- 
cording to  the  custom  of  the  country,  thy  father  should 
have  paid  me  the  first  visit;  but  thee  knows  I am  no 
respecter  of  etiquette,  and  I am  willing  to  make  the  first 
visit  to  thy  father.” 

“I  will  signify  your  wish,  sir,”  said  Charles,  somewhat 
gravely ; “ but  you  must  be  aware  that  my  father  never 
goes  into  company,  and,  consequently,  that  he  cannot  be 
desirous  of  receiving  visitors.” 

“ Very  true.  But  thee  may  say  that  I wish  to  see  him 
on  business.” 

“ Business?  Oh,  I will  say  so,  sir.  The  nature  of  the 
business  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  me  to  announce  to 
him.” 

“ Thee  may  do  so.  It  is  in  regard  to  the  lines  of  our 
land, — a tract  held  jointly  by  thy  acquaintance  Julia  and 
myself,  which  runs  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  thy 
father’s  house.  Mr.  Green,  the  surveyor,  is  of  opinion 
that  the  house  is  on  our  land.  And,  if  it  be  so,  thee  knows 
thy  father  should  be  informed  of  it,  as  there  might  be  a 
gold-mine  involved  in  it.” 

“ I will  repeat  your  words,  sir,”  was  the  careless  reply 
of  the  young  man,  upon  whom  the  Quaker  had  supposed 
the  announcement  would  produce  a very  different  effect. 

In  short,  the  frequent  conferences  between  Mr.  Green 
and  Mr.  Schooley  had  reference  to  the  whispered  rumour 
that  gold  existed  in  vast  quantities  in  the  cliff,  at  the  base 
of  which  the  hut  of  Mr.  Cameron  was  situated;  and  it 

4* 


42 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


was  believed  that  the  white-haired  Scotchman  had  found 
access  to  it.  Else  why  did  he  persist  in  maintaining  so 
strict  a seclusion?  And  how  else  could  he  have  obtained 
the  means  of  bestowing  a collegiate  education  on  his  son  ? 
His  man,  McSwine,  had  been  sent  twice  a year  to  New 
York,  from  whom,  of  course,  nothing  could  be  learned ; 
but  it  was  inferred  that  he  carried  the  precious  metal  with 
him  to  exchange  for  coin,  with  which  the  expenses  of 
Charles,  at  Princeton,  were  defrayed. 

After  a rather  embarrassing  pause,  caused  by  the  sur- 
prise of  Mr.  Schooley,  Charles  departed  for  the  humble 
residence  of  his  father. 

And  in  the  mean  time  Mr.  Green  had  improved  the  op- 
portunity to  impart  to  Julia  the  fact  that  a portion  of  the 
land  occupied  by  Mi  Cameron  belonged,  in  all  probability, 
to  herself ; and,  furthermore,  that  it  might  be  the  reposi- 
tory of  the  precious  metal  so  long  believed  to  be  hidden  in 
the  vicinity. 

“If  this  be  so,”  said  Julia,  with  seriousness,  “it  would 
be  a pity  to  deprive  him  of  it.” 

“ Thee  must  be  very  generous,”  said  Mrs.  Schooley, 
“ not  to  take  what  is  thine  own,  for  fear  of  depriving  a 
stranger  of  it,  and  one  who  has  no  title  to  it.” 

“Oh,  madam,”  said  Julia,  “thou  knowest  I leave  the 
management  of  all  business  matters  to  Thomas.  But,  still, 
I cannot  help  thinking  how  great  a disappointment  it 
would  be  for  another  to  relinquish  an  estate  after  long 
supposing  it  to  be  fairly  his  own.’ 

“But  paid  for  it  with  thy  gold,  perhaps:  thee  must  not 
forget  that,”  said  Mary,  rising,  and  going  out  in  obedience 
to  a signal  from  Thomas,  who  appeared  at  the  door. 

Mr.  Green,  being  left  alone  with  Julia,  did  not  hesitate 
to  touch  upon  another  matter,  which  he  w^as  well  assured 
would  not  be  displeasing  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Schooley,  or  their 
thrifty  and  industrious  son. 

“In  all  such  matters,  Miss  Lane,”  resumed  Mr.  Green, 
who  really  spoke  without  disingenuousness,  “ I can  have 
uo  other  object  than  to  promote  the  interest  of  my  friends. 
Whatever  may  be  the  result  of  the  discovery  which  we 
think  has  been  made,  I can  neither  sustain  any  injury  or 
derive  any  benefit.” 

“ Of  course  not,  Mr.  Green,”  said  Julia;  “and  you  must 


SECOND  SERIES. 


4? 


not  suppose  me  capable  of  being  offended  at  any  part  you 
may  take  in  the  proceeding.’' 

“ Oh,  I am  under  obligations  to  your  late  respected 
father  and  to  Mr.  Schooley.  And,  if  I might  be  so  bold 
as  to  utter  a particular  wish  I have  long  indulged,  regard- 
ing the  crowning  of  your  happiness — of  the  happiness  of 
both  families ” 

“Pray,  speak  on,  Mr.  Green,”  said  Julia,  smiling. 
“You  have  permission  to  speak  plainly.” 

“ Then  it  is  this  : that  all  the  lands  may  descend  to  the 
heirs  without  division.  I mean,  as  the  lands  are  undivided, 
that  the  heirs  may  be  united.” 

“ Oh,  in  marriage  !” 

“ That  is  it ! And  Master  Richard,  I believe,  sighs  for 
such  a union.” 

“Mr.  Green,  I am  sure  you  must  be  mistaken.  He  has 
never  said  so  himself.” 

“ He  is  diffident.  But  you  may  rely  upon  it.” 

“ But  then  it  would  be  impracticable,  because  we  belong 
to  different  churches.” 

“ You  can  thee  and  thou  as  well  as  the  rest  of  them ; 
and  I supposed  you  attended  their  meetings.” 

“ I have  gone  to  them,  but  came  away  no  wiser  than 
before,  because  the  Spirit  did  not  move  them  to  speak. 
No,  indeed;  I am  an  Episcopalian.” 

“ I am  a Baptist,  and  would  be  the  last  person  to  advise 
any  one  to  give  up  the  church  of  his  choice.  Still,  I think 
the  obstacle  could  be  removed.  But  pardon  me — I will 
not  pursue  the  subject.  Where  there  is  a will  there  is  a 
way.” 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Schooley  then  entered,  and  the  subject  of 
the  impending  war  became  the  topic  of  conversation. 

Julia  repeated  the  opinion  of  the  elder  Cameron  as  it 
had  been  expressed  by  Charles. 

/ “ Then  he  seems  to  take  some  interest  in  the  world 
beyond  the  cliff,”  said  Mr.  Schooley. 

“Oh,  yes,”  continued  Julia,  “and  he  has  much  experi- 
ence, no  doubt,  in  wars — and — or — I mean — from  his  great 
age  I should  think  so,”  she  added,  checking  herself. 

“Did  Charles  tell  thee  so?”  asked  Mr.  Schooley. 

“He  said  he  had  faith  in  his  father’s  judgment,”  re- 
plied the  startled  girl,  “ And  Charles  is  decidedly  of  the 


44 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES. 


opinion  that  the  Indians  will  generally  espouse  the  royal 
side.” 

“And  Charles’s  opinion  is  correct,”  said  Mr.  Green. 
“Although  they  do  not  know  which  side  I will  take,  I 
have  already  had  a message  from  King  Shingas^  of  the 
Northern  Delawares,  and  Brandt-,  of  the  Mohawks,  to  be 
prepared  for  flight.  I have  rendered  some  services  to 
several  of  the  great  chiefs,  and  therefore  am  I warned 
by  them.  Yet  I do  not  think  there  is  any  immediate 
danger.” 

“But  I shall  take  neither  side,”  said  Thomas.  “That 
is,  I will  commit  no  violence  on  either  side,  although  I shall 
be  rejoiced  when  the  rebellion  is  put  down,  as  I have  no 
doubt  it  will  be.  And  if  the  Indians  fight  for  the  king, 
they  will  hardly  molest  me — a loyal  subject.” 

After  relating  to  Julia  the  manner  in  which  he  had  ob- 
tained the  friendship  of  the  Indians,  Mr.  Green  withdrew, 
promising  to  attend  Mr.  Schooley  during  his  interview 
with  the  elder  Cameron. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

TIIE  HERMIT — HIS  SECRET — SCENE  AT  THE  TREE--  SOLEMN 
VOWS — MOODY’S  APPEARANCE. 

Charles  determined  to  seize  the  first  opportunity,  both 
to  propose  to  his  father  the  reception  of  friendlv  viwtors 
and  to  expostulate  upon  the  impolicy  of  occupying  so  mean 
a house. 

It  was  with  this  bold  resolution  that  he  arose  the  second 
morning  after  his  interview  with  Mr.  Schooley,  and  occu- 
pied the  rude  seat  opposite  his  father  at  the  morning  re- 
past. Mr.  Cameron  was  not  exceeding  sixty  years  of  age, 
although  his  bleached  locks  and  profuse  grizzly  beard 
had  created  the  impression  that  he  was  much  older,  ll'w 
form  was  tall  and  erect,  and  his  frame,  though  not  robusi 


SECOND  SERIES. 


45 


was  not  fragile.  His  face  was  very  pale,  and  his  eyes 
dark,  clear,  and  piercing. 

Hugh  McSwine  moved  backward  and  forward  between 
the  table  and  the  broad  fireplace,  serving  his  patron  and 
his  son. 

After  partaking  of  the  viands  in  silence,  Charles  broached 
the  subject  of  erecting  a better  habitation.  His  motive, 
he  delicately  hinted,  was  the  comfort  of  his  parent,  and 
not  a matter  of  convenience  to  himself,  for  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  the  rude  wigwam  of  the  children  of  the 
forest.  And  he  regretted  that  his  indulgent  parent  had 
not  used  a portion,  if  not  the  whole,  of  the  money  expended 
on  him  at  college,  in  the  erection  of  a better  tenement. 

“Do  you  suppose,  my  son,”  said  Mr.  Cameron,  “that 
this  is  to  be  your  permanent  abiding-place  ?” 

“No,  father.  Yet  the  woods,  the  rocks,  the  streams, 
and  the  skies,  here,  are  no  doubt  quite  as  pleasant  as  else- 
where, and  I could  soon  become  attached  to  them  and  feel 
that  this  was  my  home.  But  it  has  ever  seemed  to  me  that 
I was  destined  to  mingle  in  more  stirring  scenes  than  those 
likely  to  occur  in  this  quiet  valley.  I have  dreamed  of 

going  forth  to  battle ” 

“Nature — nature,  sir!”  said  McSwine. 

“Peace,  Hugh!”  said  Mr.  Cameron. 

“But  when  I returned,  it  was  to  some  such  place  as  this, 
surrounded  by  crags  and  deep  impenetrable  forests.” 

“And  such  may  be  thy  destiny.  But,  until  you  shall 
have  returned  in  safety,  where  is  the  necessity  of  a better 
house  ? If  you  did  not  return  to  inhabit  it,  it  would  be 
tenanted  by  strangers.” 

“ It  would  be  occupied  by  you,  sir.  Oh,  I assure  you,  I 
feel  many  a bitter  pang  after  lying  long  on  my  sleepless 
couch,  imagining  I have  achieved  honours  in  battles  or 
science,  to  revert  in  thought  to  the  mean  hut  which  shelters 
the  head  of  my  parent.  If  we  are  poor  in  purse,  still 
McSwine  and  myself  have  strong  arms,  and  there  is  abund- 
ance of  material,  both  wood  and  stone.” 

“ I might  have  a better  house,  Charles.  There  is  gold 
sufficient  in  my  chest  to  build  one.  But  wherefore  ? I am 
comfortable,  and  have  my  health.  I could  convince  you 
that  my  abode  would  be  less  agreeable  in  a better  house, 
and  will  do  so  very  soon.” 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


. 46 

44  But,  sir,  this  hut  is  made  the  subject  of  contemptuous 
remark  by  the  people.” 

46 1 know  it.  I desired  it.” 

44  Will  you  not  tell  me  why  such  was  your  desire  ?” 

44 Not  now;  but  soon.” 

Charles  then  delivered  the  message  from  Mr.  Schooley, 
and  repeated  the  request  that  a meeting  might  be  had  at 
an  early  day. 

A startling  frown  darkened  the  pale  brow  of  his  father ; 
but  it  vanished  when  he  learned  the  object  of  the  Quaker’s 
pursuit  was  merely  gold,  and  a smile  of  derision  parted  his 
lips. 

44  Ah  !”  said  he,  44  the  Quakers  retain  but  a limited  por- 
tion of  the  Old  Testament.  The  command  that  4 thou  shalt 
have  none  other  Gods  but  me’  is  received  with  certain 
reservations,  according  to  the  monitions  of  the  spirit.  But, 
less  wise  than  the  Indians,  it  may  be  doubted  sometimes 
whether  they  know  the  difference  between  the  promptings 
of  the  Kacha  and  the  Malcha  Manito.” 

44  Ha  ! ha  ! ha  !”  was  heard  in  guttural  sounds. 

44  Peace,  Hugh!”  said  Mr.  Cameron.  44  It  is  the  same 
thing  throughout  the  earth.  Many  men  make  choice  of  a 
religion  for  their  worldly  convenience  rather  than  then 
eternal  welfare.  But  this  prying  Quaker,  and  the  cupidity 
of  the  idle  gossips  of  the  country,  would  fill  my  poor  house 
and  overrun  the  premises.  I will  see  him,  however,  under 
the  elm  at  the  margin  of  the  brook,  and  treat  with  him  as 
the  savages  did  with  Penn;  only,  he  must  offer  me  no  gaudy 
presents.” 

J 44 1 will  inform  him,  sir.  But,  father,  may  I ask  why  it 
was,  when  I mentioned  the  request  of  Mr.  Schooley,  your 
brow  contracted  and  your  frame  seemed  agitated?” 

44  You  may,”  said  his  father,  after  a long  pause.  46  There 
could  be  no  better  time  than  the  present,  perhaps,  to  make 
known  to  you ” 

44  Right !”  exclaimed  McSwine,  clapping  his  hands. 

44  Peace,  Hugh!  Close  the  door  and  barricade  it,”  said 
the  old  man;  and  then,  turning  to  his  son,  while  Hugh 
lighted  a torch,  (for  no  particle  of  the  glittering  sunlight 
now  penetrated  the  hut,)  he  proceeded: — 64 Charles,  you 
have  no  doubt  met  with  many  of  your  name  and  country. 
There  are  hundreds  of  them  driven  forth  by  tyranny  fron? 


SECOND  SERIES. 


47 


their  native  soil  and  dispersed  over  the  world.  Did  you 
not  learn  from  the  books  in  the  college  library,  or  from 
Dr.  Witherspoon,  that  there  was  once  a race  of  lords  of 
this  clan,  each  of  whom  led  to  battle  a thousand  fol- 
lowers ?” 

“ I did,  sir.  And  the  doctor  referred  to  them  in  the 
last  conversation  I had  with  him.  He  told  me  to  be  worthy 
of  my  name.” 

“A  noble,  a glorious  name  and  lineage !”  exclaimed 
McSwine. 

“Be  silent,  faithful  Hugh!”  said  his  master.  “He  ad- 
vised thee  well,  my  son.” 

“ But,  father,  can  it  be  possible  that  I am  a lineal  de- 
scendant of  the  lords  of  the  clan  Cameron?” 

“It  is.  You  are  the  last  of  the  line  in  more  respects 
than  one.” 

“How,  sir?”  cried  Charles.  “Was  not  the  ‘Gentle 
Lochiel,’  as  his  prince  called  him,  stricken  down  on  the 
fatal  field  of  Culloden,  as  had  been  predicted  by  the  High- 
land seer  ?” 

“ He  was  stricken  down,  but  rose  again ; and  the  seer 
spoke  falsely.” 

“ The  seer  said  he  would  die  at  the  stake,”  said  McSwine, 
despondingly ; “and  it  may  yet  come  to  pass.” 

“ Peace,  Hugh  !”  said  his  master. 

“ Then  he  must  be  living  still,”  said  Charles. 

“ He  does,”  said  his  father.  “After  the  escape  from  that 
fatal  field,  he  entered  the  service  of  the  King  of  France. 
He  fought  against  the  armies  of  the  British  tyrant  both  in 
Europe  and  America.” 

“America!”  said  Charles.  “Am  I — can  I ” 

“ Thou  art  his  son.  I am  Lochiel !” 

Charles  threw  his  arms  round  his  father’s  neck,  and  long 
remained  silent. 

“Yes,”  continued  his  father,  gently  disengaging  himself, 
“ I am  the  Gentle  Lochiel,  and  thou  art  my  son.  But  know 
you  not  there  is  a price  upon  my  head?  A reward  of  a 
thousand  guineas  was  offered  for  my  arrest,  and  it  has  not 
been  revoked.” 

“ But,  father,  George  II.  has  descended  to  the  tomb,  and 
surely  the  decree  would  not  now  be  enforced  if  you  were 
apprehended.” 


lb 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


u Yon  know  not  that.  My  brother  returned  to  Scotland, 
many  years  after  the  battle  of  Culloden,  for  the  treasure 
of  the  family  he  had  secreted.  He  obtained  it,  and  it  was 
transmitted  to  me  in  Paris.  But  he  lingered  in  Scotland, 
supposing  the  enmity  of  the  usurpers  might  be  extin- 
guished. He  was  arrested  — executed!  He  and  I were 
among  the  proscribed,  and  were  already  condemned  to 
death.  No  trial  was  accorded  him.  The  king  had  only  to 
feign  the  death-warrant,  which  was  done,  while  he  uttered 
hollow  regrets — merely  enticements,  hoping  I,  too,  would 
return  to  the  land  of  my  fathers.  His  crown  sat  uneasily 
on  his  head  while  an  honest  chieftain  asserted  that  he  had 
no  title  to  it ! But  enough  of  that.  When  peace  was 
made,  I did  not  return  with  my  regiment  to  Europe,  be- 
cause the  Indians  had  stolen  my  son.  I sought  you  and 
found  you.  But  then  the  last  of  the  royal  Stuarts  had 
been  arrested  and  conveyed  from  Paris  by  the  orders  of 
Louis,  and  I resigned  my  commission,  (which  was  not  ac- 
cepted,) resolved  to  bestow  an  education  on  my  son  and  die 
in  some  peaceful  seclusion.  Now  you  know  the  reason  of 
my  standing  aloof  from  society.  The  thousand  guineas 
would  induce  many  a wretch  to  cut  short  my  existence. 
You  need  not  frown.  You  could  not  prevent  it,  but  you 
might  avenge  me.” 

“ I will  be  avenged  upon  King  George !”  said  Charles. 

“ I know  thou  wouldst,  my  son*”  said  the  old  man.  “I 
know  you  would  contribute  to  sever  this  vast  country  from 
his  empire.  It  will  be  lost  to  him  and  his  line  forever  with- 
out our  instrumentality.  Such  is  the  decree  of  Providence, 
who  rewards  or  punishes  every  good  or  evil  action.  But 
more  of  that  hereafter.  Let  it  suffice  that  I have  ample 
intelligence  of.  the  great  political  events,  and  can,  from  my 
obscure  hut,  notwithstanding  the  umbrage  I conceived, 
wield  no  mean  influence  at  the  court  of  Versailles.  As  for 
thee,  thou  art  already,  I fear,  entangled  in  the  silken  fet- 
ters of  love ” 

' “I,  father?” 

“ I think  so.  What  think  you,  Hugh  ?” 

“ Gone ! noosed!”  said  McSwine,  grimly  smiling. 

“And,  pray,  how  was  such  information  obtained?”  de- 
manded Charles,  with  a burning  blush  suffusing  his  face. 

“ Ha  ! ha  ! Ask  Solo  !”  said  McSwine. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


4S 


u Solo  ? Ha  ! were  you  in  the  thicket  that  night  ?” 

“ I was,”  replied  the  shaggy,  broad-shouldered  Scot. 

“ Beware  how  you  dog  my  trail,  McSwine !”  said  the 
indignant  youth.  “ If  my  tomahawk  had  been  in  my 
belt,  your  brains  might  have  manured  the  roots  of  the 
brambles !” 

“ It  was  not  without  my  permission,  Charles.  But  the 

lady,  as  I have  learned ” 

“ As  you  have  learned,  father  ?” 

“ Oh,  yes.  The  mode  of  obtaining  my  intelligence  is  no 
doubt  sufficiently  mysterious ; but  it  is  ample  and  reliable. 
I say  I am  gratified  to  learn  the  lady  is  altogether  worthy 
of  the  son  of  Lochiel.  I shall  not  oppose  the  union,  when 
the  time  arrives  for  its  consummation,  should  I survive  to 
see  it, — for  the  event  cannot  transpire  immediately.  It  will 
be  obstructed  by  others,  and  in  the  mean  time  I may  be 
seized  and  led  to  the  block.” 

“ Never  !”  said  Charles.  McSwine  pointed  significantly 
toward  the  dying  embers  on  the  hearth. 

“I  understand  you,  Hugh,”  said  the  old  man,  smiling. 
“ Charles  shall  know  all.  Follow  me,  my  son,”  he  con- 
tinued, lifting  the  torch,  and  striding  toward  the  broad 
fireplace,  that  had  been  apparently  cut  from  the  solid  rock, 
being  a portion  of  the  perpendicular  cliff  against  which  the 
hut  was  constructed.  After  removing  the  soot  on  one  side 
of  the  rock,  and  introducing  a strong  iron  bar  into  an  ori- 
fice hitherto  concealed,  the  entire  rear  wall,  in  one  piece, 
began  to  swing  forward  on  hidden  hinges,  like  the  ponderous 
door  of  a vault.  The  torch  was  then  extinguished,  and 
Charles  was  amazed  to  behold  the  subdued  rays  of  the  sun 
falling  across  the  passage  revealed  within. 

In  silence  he  followed  his  father,  and  the  next  moment 
was  standing  in  an  elegant  room,  with  an  arched  ceiling, 
through  which  the  rays  of  the  sun  were  streaming  in  a 
hundred  places.  The  floor  was  strewn  with  rushes,  and 
in  the  corners  were  several  couches  covered  with  velvet. 
The  walls  were  hung  with  Gobelin  tapestry,  commemorating 
events  in  the  history  of  Scotland  and  France.  A small 
ebony  table  on  one  side  was  covered  with  books  richly 
bound ; and  on  the  other,  supported  by  a small  stand,  was 
an  open  Bible  and  an  Episcopal  prayer-book.  In  the 
centre  of  the  room  gurgled  a stream  of  transparent  water 

5 


60 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES! 


which  tilled  a pool  hollowed  in  the  rock,  and  then  flowed 
out  at  the  side  by  a channel  cut  in  the  floor.  In  the  pool 
disported  a number  of  speckled  trout,  seemingly  familiar 
with  the  presence  of  man. 

“This  is  not  the  wTork  of  enchantment, ” said  the  exiled 
chief,  gazing  at  the  surprised  countenance  of  his  son,  “ but 
partly  of  these  hands.  It  is  never  good  to  be  idle.  While 
Hugh  tilled  the  soil  and  you  were  at  college,  it  was  my 
daily  task  to  excavate  the  rock  and  provide  a refuge.  You 
may  learn  from  this  the  magnitude  of  results  obtained  by 
incessant  application,  however  slow  the  progress.  If  the 
idea  be  conceived,  unceasing  application  will  sooner  or  later 
accomplish  the  end.  But  you  have  not  seen  all.,,  He 
then  led  the  way  into  tw7o  smaller  rooms,  some  ten  feet 
square,  and  both  likewise  illuminated  by  rays  of  the  sun 
struggling  through  small  fissures.  In  one  of  these  rooms — 
the  centre  one,  for  they  were  in  a suite,  after  the  plan  of  the 
palaces  in  France — were  arranged  a great  number  of  war- 
like implements.  In  the  farthest  was  the  wardrobe  and 
the  treasure,  the  latter  secured  in  a strong  iron-bound 
oaken  chest.  The  lid  was  lifted,  and  Charles  beheld 
several  bags  of  coin.  There  were  also  costly  jewels,  and 
pieces  of  massy  plate,  the  presents  of  princes  and  the  heir- 
looms of  the  family. 

“This  is  thy  heritage,”  said  the  exile.  “If  it- please 
thee  to  build  a finer  house,  have  thy  will;  but  thy  father 
will  still  abide  in  his  stronghold.” 

“No,  sir!”  said  Charles,  with  firmness.  “Every  thing 
shall  be  subject  to  thy  will — not  mine.  Thou  wert  right  in 
constructing  such  an  abode.  And,  if  I were  thee,  I would 
not  see  Mr.  Schooley,  nor  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  prying 
neighbours.  Permit  me,  sir,  to  turn  back  all  intruders. 
Against  me  no  accusation  can  be  brought ; but  some  one 
whom  thou  hast  met  in  foreign  lands  might  recognise  thy 
features.” 

“No,  no.  Hugh  will  watch  and  guard  the  premises. 
He  is  faithful.  And  they  may  not  know  mev  I had  no 
exuberance  of  beard,  and  my  hair  was  dark,  until  thou  wast 
stolen.  No,  no ! there  is  no  danger  now ; and  I will  see 
this  Quaker  under  the  elm.  No  doubt  they  believe  I find 
gold  in  the  cliff,  since  they  must  have  observed  the  dust 
from  my  excavations  swept  away  by  the  freshets.  Let  us 


SECOND  SERIES. 


51 


return  to  the  humble  hut.  Hasten  to  thy  friend,  and  sav 
I will  see  him.” 

Charles  was  impatient  to  deliver  the  answer  of  his  father, 
but  paused  near  the  door  of  the  hut,  and  carefully  surveyed 
the  premises.  The  hut,  as  we  have  said,  was  built  against 
a perpendicular  portion  of  the  cliff.  It  was  where  the 
range  had  been  divided  at  right  angles  by  one  of  the  narrow 
ravines  that  opened  into  the  larger  valley,  which  ran  paral- 
lel with  the  principal  ridge.  Thus  the  tenement  was  above 
the  reach  of  high-water,  and  the  rooms  excavated  in  the 
rock  received  their  light  from  the  many  perforations  in  the 
cliff  fronting  on  the  largest  stream,  and  were  quite  inacces- 
sible to  any  one  without.  There  were  a few  well-culti- 
vated acres  on  one  side  of  the  small  brook,  on  which  were 
a rude  stable  and  cow-house.  And  in  this  manner  the 
recluse  lived  in  security  and  independence. 

Charles  directed  his-  steps  toward  the  abode  of  Julia 
with  feelings  very  different  from  any  he  had  Hitherto  ex- 
perienced. v His  hatred  of  the  king  became  inextinguish- 
ably violent,  and  he  was  glad  he  had  resisted  the  artful 
suggestions  of  Governor  Franklin. 

When  he  drew  near  the  house,  Paddy  addressed  him. 

“ What  is  it,  Paddy  ?”  he  asked,  pausing  near  the  garden. 

“ Nothing  matarial,  Misther  Charles,  only  we've  no 
wathermelons  in  Ireland,  and,  as  I niver  seed  'em  grow,  I 
can’t  ricognise  thim  whin  I mate  them  face  to  face.  They 
tould  me  they  growed  among  the  savages,  and  I thought 
you  might  be  famaliar  with  ’em,  and  would  be  oblaging 
enough  to  say  which  is  which.” 

“That  is  a watermelon-vine  at  your  elbow,  Paddy,”  said 
Charles,  laughing  very  heartily. 

“ Be  my  life,  I thought  so,  though  I niver  saw  one  before.” 

“But  you  are  cultivating  it  in  a most  singular  way,” 
continued  Charles,  much  diverted  on  finding  the  imported 
gardener  had  driven  a long  stake  in  the  ground  and 
wrapped  the  vine  around  it. 

“ I shouldn’t  wonder,  Mr.  Charles ; for  what  is  right 
in  a savilized  country  is  wrong  in  sich  a wild  place  as  this. 
And  it  reminds  me  of  the  corn  Lord  Bute,  whose  gardener 
my  father  was,  tried  to  raise  in  Scotland.  His  lordship 
tasted  the  laves  of  the  bush,  and  they  cut  his  tongue.  He 
had  thim  biled,  like  granes,  and  tasted  thim  sasoned,  but 


52 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES 


threw  thim  to  the  pigs.  Well,  Mr.  Charles,  the  great  phi- 
losopher, Franklin,  the  nathural  father  of  the  prisent 
governor  of  this  colony,  was  there,  looking  on,  laughing 
and  whaspering  something  to  her  ledyship.  At  last  he 
hinted  that  the  ear  ought  to  be  biled  and  aten,  as  it  was 
done  in  America.  ‘Och,’  said  his  lordship,  ‘is  that  the 
way?  I thought  the  grane  was  the  sade,  and  not  to  be  aten, 
but  planted/” 

“Paddy,”  said  Charles,  “when  the  Indians  get  you,  if 
you  tell  them  that  tale  it  may  save  your  scalp.” 

“I  wouldn’t  spind  my  breath  on  such  blackguards,”  was 
Paddy’s  reply,  as  he  proceeded  to  detach  the  vines  from 
the  poles,  and  muttering  something  about  the  “ falthiness” 
of  permitting  fruit  to  grow  on  the  ground. 

Mr.  Schooley  and  Mr.  Green  did  not  delay  when  informed 
that  Mr.  Cameron  would  receive  them.  They  mounted 
their  horses  and  trotted  briskly  away.  And,  while  Mrs. 
Schooley’s  foot  was  in  rapid  motion  at  the  little  wheel, 
furnishing  the  threads  for  the  loom,  Julia  and  Charles 
wandered  away  toward  the  grove  near  the  end  of  the  lane. 

On  one  side  of  the  lane,  Richard  and  the  negroes  were 
at  work  planting  the  late  corn. 

“I  suppose,  Julia,”  said  Richard,  his  hoe  suspended  in 
the  air,  as  the  couple  passed  slowly  along,  “ thou  hast 
been  telling  thy  friend  about  our  claim  to  the  land.  Thou 
mayest  promise,  if  there  be  much  gold  in  the  cliff,  that  a 
share  of  it  shall  remain  for  his  father.” 

“ Oh,  pray  don’t  be  too  liberal,  friend  Richard,”  said 
Charles.  “ My  father  don’t  value  gold  as  much  as  you  do 
the  common  dust ; and  as  for  me,  no  doubt  Julia  will,  speak 
kindly  in  my  behalf.” 

“Do  so,  Julia,”  said  Richard;  “and  whatever  thou  dost 
promise  will  be  approved  by  me.” 

The  amused  couple  pursued  their  way,  and  never  paused 
until  they  reached  the  great  sycamore  on  the  margin  of  a 
trout-brook  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  farm.  Here 
they  sat  upon  a moss-covered  stone  partly  buried  in  the 
soil,  placed  there,  perhaps,  by  human  hands,  to  mark  the 
spot  of  a battle  between  hostile  tribes  of  the  forest. 
Animals,  arrows,  and  birds,  were  cut  on  one  side  of  its 
surface.  On  the  other,  and  almost  illegible,  were  rude 
figures  of  men  wielding  the  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife, 


SECOND  SERIES. 


5vi 


besides  many  nondescript  marks  and  characters.  Charles 
read  the  meaning,  and  not  only  understood  the  number  of 
warriors  that  had  been  engaged,  but  the  name  of  the  tribe 
which  had  conquered.  He  could  not  tell  when  the  con- 
flict had  taken  place,  but  it  was  evidently  at  a remote 
period. 

“Ha!”  he  exclaimed,  upon  lifting  his  eyes  and  behold- 
ing recently-made  figures  on  the  smooth  bark  of  the  syca- 
more, “a  Seneca  chief  has  been  here  within  the  last 
twenty-four  hours !” 

“And  with  an  evil  intent,  think  you?”  asked  Julia, 
with  emotion,  observing  the  excited  gaze  of  the  young 
man. 

“I  fear  so,  Julia,”  said  he.  “He  threatens  us.  Do 
you  not  see  the  serpent  winding  round  the  eagle,  and  the 
arrow  piercing  the  antelope  ?” 

“And  they  call  you  the  White  Eagle  and  I the  Ante- 
lope ! Why  should  they  threaten  us?” 

“ They  would  have  me  with  them  again.  And  they  sup- 
pose the  Antelope  withholds  me  from  returning  to  the 
Brown  Thrush,  the  sister  of  Thayendanegea.’ 

“And  perhaps  she  loves  you !” 

“ She  called  me  brother.” 

“ But  I have  learned  that  the  white  captives  often  marry 
their  brown  sisters.” 

“ True.  But  I will  never  do  so.” 

“But  does  she  not  love  thee?” 

“ She  does.  But  what  then  ?” 

“ Fly  to  her  !” 

“No.” 

“Why  not?” 

“Because,  Julia,  I love  only  thee,  and  will  remain.” 

“ You  never  said  so  before,”  replied  the  girl,  after  a long 
pause. 

“ But  I have  long  felt  it,  and  you  could  not  have  been 
wholly  ignorant  of  it.  Even  Shawuskukhkung,  who  came 
hither  with  me,  and  is  now  on  the  lakes,  pleading  with  his 
kindred  to  remain  at  peace,  observed  it.  Mr.  Livingston 
suspected  it;  and  now  I avow  it.  Oh,  do  not  drive  me 
back  to  the  wild  forest ! I never  regarded  the  Brown 
Thrush  otherwise  than  as  a dear  sister.  Do  not  drive  me 
away.  I am  not  the  outcast  they  suppose.  My  father  is 

5* 


54 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


of  gentle  blood.  Only  permit  me  to  love  thee,  and  let  tl  ? 
friendship  continue,  and  that  is  all  I will  require,  until  a 
proper  time  arrives  for  me  to  claim  your  hand  in  the  face 
of  the  world.” 

“ Charles,  you  know  I have  ever  esteemed  you ; hut  I 
cannot  promise.” 

“ Not  promise  to  continue  your  friendship  ? to  ramble 
with  me  as  usual  over  the  hills  and  through  the  valleys? 
— to ” 

“ Oh,  I think  I may  promise  that — but ” 

“ That  is  all  I ask  at  this  time.  I know  that,  until  you 
arrive  at  a certain  age,  your  guardian  has  power  over  you. 
This  both  himself  and  Mrs.  Schooley  have  repeatedly  as- 
sured me.” 

“ He  possesses  the  power  of  withholding  my  fortune  until 
I arrive  at  a certain  age,  if  I marry  without  his  consent. 
That  is  all.  But  I promised  my  father  to  be  guided,  by 
his  advice  until  I had  attained  my  majority,  and,  you 
know,  long  years  must  elapse  before  the  fulfilment  of  that 
period.” 

“ True.  But  the  time  will  come.  I asked  nothing  but 
a continuance  of  your  friendly  regard  until  a proper  moment 
arrived  for  me  to  apply  to  your  guardian.  There  was  one 
other  thing,  however: — that  you  would  make  no  pledge, 
under  any  circumstances,  to  Richard.” 

“ To  Richard ! Do  you  know  the  Quakers  must  marry 
within  the  society?” 

“I  know  it;  and  I know  also  there  are  many  ways  of 
whipping  the  devil  round  the  stump.” 

“ They  would  not  attempt  to  whip  me ; but  surely  you 
could  not  mean  such  a thing.” 

“ No,  certainly  not ; the  allusion  was  to  the  Malcha 
Manito,  which  may  sometimes  be  mistaken  for  the  Good 
Spirit  in  one’s  breast ; and,  according  to  the  Quaker  doc- 
trine, its  monitions  might  be.  the  highest  decrees — higher 
than  any  human  laws.  But  you  do  not  promise!” 

“ I do,  Charles  ! And  let  it  be  a solemn  compact !” 

“ Solemnly  between  us !”  said  Charles,  pressing  her 
hand  against  his  heart.  “For,  Julia,  the  time  may  come 
when  we  must  be  separated, — when  I may  be  a captive,  or 
an  outlaw  with  a price  upon  my  head ; for  I will  never 
draw  sword  or  wield  tomahawk  in  behalf  of  King  George. 


CHARLES  AND  JULIA  SURPRISED  BY  MOODY. — P.  66. 


UBRMrt 
OF  -HE 

UNIVERSITY  of  IUNOiS 


SECOND  SERIES. 


55 


Mr.  Livingston,  Mr.  Stockton,  Doctor  Witherspoon,  and 
most  of  the  leading  characters,  will  resist  the  tyranny  of 
the  king.  And  my  father  says  that  when  a rebellion  is 
headed  by  the  great  personages  of  a country,  after  due 
deliberation  and  formal  confederation,  the  people  must 
win  their  freedom.  ” 

4w  The  devil  he  does !”  said  a broad-chested,  red-haired 
man,  of  vigorous  step  and  scowling  features,  who  came 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  huge  sycamore  and  con- 
fronted the  unsuspecting  pair. 

44  Who  are  you?”  demanded  Charles,  leaping  up  and 
grasping  his  tomahawk,  which  he  had  carried  in  his  belt 
after  hearing  the  history  of  his  father. 

44  I am  a loyal  subject  of  King  George  III.,  and  you  are 
a rebel !” 

44And  you  have  been  eavesdropping?  But  you  shall 
not  repeat  what  you  have  heard  !”  And  the  youth  hurled 
his  tomahawk  at  the  head  of  the  intruder.  Julia  uttered 
a scream  at  the  moment,  and  strove  to  defeat  his  aim. 
She  was  successful.  The  instrument  penetrated  the  tree 
several  inches  above  the  mark,  and  remained  firmly  fixed 
in  the  wood. 

44  Now  is  my  time!”  said  the  stranger,  pale  and  quiver- 
ing ; for  the  assault  had  evidently  not  been  anticipated,  and 
he  had  made  but  a hairbreadth  escape.” 

44  Nay!  do  not  fire!”  exclaimed  Julia,  throwing  her 
slight  form  between  his  rifle  and  her  lover.  44 1 saved  thy 
life,”  she  continued,  44  and  you  shall  not  take  his  without 
first  killing  me !” 

44 1 believe  you  would  die  to  save  him,”  said  the  stranger, 
lowering  his  gun.  44  But  you  must  teach  him  better  man- 
ners than  to  throw  his  tomahawk  at  every  one  he  meets, 
and  before  he  learns  whether  they  are  his  friends  or  his 
foes.” 

44  Sir,  you  could  not  be  the  first,”  said  Charles ; 44  and  I 
defy  thee  still,  although  unarmed.” 

44  Merely  because  I happened  to  hear  the  words  you 
were  speaking  to  this  maiden  ? Know,  sir,  that  the  tree  is 
hollow,  the  entrance  being  on  the  opposite  side.  I was  in 
it  before  you  came  hither.” 

44 And  what  were  you  doing  there?” 

44 1 will  tell  you,  seeing  you  have  no  secrets  from  me 


50 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


Know,  then,  that  I,  too,  can  read  the  picture-writing  as 
well  as  yourself — nay,  better,  for  I understood  by  the 
figures  that  the  Seneca  chief  would  return  in  a few  hours. 
I fell  asleep  awaiting  him,  and  was  awakened  by  you.  I 
know  you  both,  and  will  not  retain  the  advantage.  I am 
Bonnel  Moody,  at  your  service,  and  bear  a commission  in 
the  service  of  the  king.  And  I am  now  on  duty,  being 
sent  hither  by  one  of  the  royal  governors  to  ascertain  the 
sentiments  of  the  people.” 

64  And  you  have  learned  the  sentiments  of  one  of  them,” 
said  Charles,  smiling. 

44  But  sentiments  change,  like  the  seasons ; and,  when 
you  hear  what  I have  been  charged  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Schooley,  perhaps  your  opinions  may  be  modified.  My 
mission  is  to  spread  information  as  well  as  to  obtain  it;  to 
conciliate,  rather  than  to  incense.  Hence,  I trust  there 
will  be  no  further  strife  between  us.” 

44 1 thank  you  for  those  words,  Mr.  Moody,”  said 
Julia. 

44  And  fear  not  that  I will  repeat  the  speeches  I have 
heard,  unless  forced  to  do  so  in  the  discharge  of  my  duty,” 
continued  the  intruder,  with  a slight  smile. 

44 1 wT*irn  you,  sir !”  said  Charles.  44  Utter  but  one  word 
you  have  heard,  and  we  are  deadly  enemies  forever.  Let 
us  return,  Julia.  You  still  tremble.” 

Charles  had  not  gone  many  paces  before  he  was  over- 
taken by  Moody. 

44  Take  your  tomahawk,  sir,”  said  Moody,  placing  the 
glittering  hatchet  in  the  hand  of  the  youth.  44  You  have 
a strong  arm,  sir.  I could  hardly  loosen  it.  And,  as  the 
maiden  may  not  always  be  present  when  we  meet,  I hope 
it  will  never  be  aimed  at  the  same  target  again.  Let  us 
be  friends.” 

44  It  cannot  be.  Avoid  my  path,  and  I will  not  seek 
yours.” 

44  It  must  be  as  you  decide,”  said  Moody,  gravely.  44  But 
I may  keep  your  company  until  we  arrive  at  the  house, 
since  I have  important  messages  for  Mr.  Schooley.” 

44  He  is  not  at  home,  sir,”  said  Julia.  44  He  and  Mr. 
Green  have  visited  Mr.  Cameron,  Charles’s  father.” 

44  The  old  man  of  the  gold-mine?  Then  I will  join 
them  there;  and  I know  a nearer  way  than  through  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


5‘, 


lane.  A fair  morning  to  you  both/’  he  continued,  bowing 
very  low,  and  striding  through  the  wood  in  a divergent 
direction. 

“And  be  careful  that  you  do  not  again  play  the  eaves- 
dropper,M said  Charles;  “for  Hugh  McSwine  has  a sharp 
tusk.” 

“Do  not  irritate  him,  Charles!”  said  Julia,  clinging 
with  increased  tenacity  to  his  arm. 

“Julia,”  said  Charles,  in  a sad  tone,  “that  man  is  the 
only  witness  to  our  vows.” 

“ No,  Charles.  One  in  heaven  heard  them  ! They  say 
such  vows  are  registered  in  heaven,  and  there  is  no  reason 
to  doubt  it.  And  if  it  be  so,  it  must  be  a grievous  thing  to 
break  them  ! I hope  you  made  no  similar  pledges  to  the 
sister  of  the  Mohawk  chief.” 

“Indeed,  no,  Julia.  And  she  will  acquit  me  of  it;  but 
she  knows  not  of  my  regard  for  you.  She  is  meek  and 
forgiving,  and  seldom  swayed  by  passion;  but  her  bro- 
ther is  sometimes  fierce  and  furious.  He  loves  me,  but 
would  kill  me  rather  than  lose  me ; but  we  must  be 
separated.” 

“And  will  he  not  kill  you?” 

“Not  if  I can  help  it.  But  he  is  patient,  too,  at  times, 
and  prudent  and  wise,  as  well  as  affectionate.  He  is  only 
terrible  when  in  one  of  his  ungovernable  spasms.  He  still 
hopes  I will  return  and  marry  his  sister;  and  I do  not 
think  he  would  listen  to  the  words  of  this  Moody,  if  he 
were  to  repeat  what  he  heard  at  the  sycamore.”  In  this 
manner  they  conversed  until  they  were  joined  by  Richard, 
who,  having  faithfully  done  a half-day’s  work,  was  repair- 
ing to  the  house  for  his  dinner. 


68 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  SENECA  INDIAN — ATTEMPT  TO  ARREST  THE  REFUGEE  — 
RIVAL  LOVERS — BLUE  PIGEON’S  MESSAGE. 

Charles  accepted  Richard’s  invitation  to  dine  with  him. 
Rose  brought  in  the  smoking  fowls  and  other  viands,  and 
they  fared  sumptuously. 

Before  the  dinner  was  over,  and  when  even  Mrs.  Schooley 
herself  was  smiling  at  the  idea  of  the  Irish  gardener  plant- 
ing poles  for  the  watermelon-vines  to  run  on,  (an  account 
of  which  Charles  was  entertaining  the  family  with,)  Paddy 
himself  made  his  appearance  in  a most  unlooked-for  man- 
ner. He  sprang  into  the  room  and  overturned  the  table, 
over  which  he  fell,  sprawling  to  the  floor.  Before  any  one 
had  time  to  demand  an  explanation,  he  bawled  out,  “In- 
dians ! the  savage  Indians  !” 

6 Where?”  asked  Richard,  jumping  up,  and  manifesting 
some  alarm. 

“Be  calm,  Richard.  Thee  need  not  fear,”  said  Mrs. 
Schooley.  “ Thou  knowest  the  chiefs  have  often  been  the 
guests  of  thy  father  in  Burlington,  and  thee  need  not  fear 
them  here.” 

“ How  many  did  you  see?”  asked  Charles. 

“ I don’t  know  how  many,  Misther  Charles,”  said  Paddy. 
“ But  one  of  the  blackguards  was  laning  over  the  palings 
close  be  my  head  when  I was  sticking  the  marrow-fat  pays. 
He  was  as  close  to  me  as  I am  to  you  at  this  moment.” 

“Then  it  could  not  have  been  his  purpose  to  kill  you,” 
said  Julia,  “or  he  might  have  done  it  easily.” 

“ Och,  and  I should  niver  have  been  the  wiser  ! What 
a country  to  live  in ! Nothing  but  rattlesnakes  and  black- 
guard Indians !” 

“ Thee  must  not  term  them  so,  Patrick,”  said  Mrs. 
Schooley;  “for,  if  they  should  hear  thee,  they  might  do 
thee  some  mischief.” 

“ I will  call  them  gintlemen  if  they’ll  only  let  me  sculp 


SECOND  SERIES. 


59 


alone.  I hope  they  did  not  hear  me.  I’m  sure  I beg 
their  pardon  if  they  did.” 

Charles  stepped  to  the  door  and  uttered  a friendly  call 
in  the  Seneca  language ; and  the  solitary  Indian,  who  had 
so  much  alarmed  the  gardener,  approached  from  the  position 
he  had  occupied  when  Paddy  beheld  him,  and  from  which 
he  had  not  moved.  _He  entered  the  house,  shaking  hands 
with  all  the  inmates,  and  uttering  the  usual  “ How  do  ?” 
Paddy  hesitated  and  squirmed  a great  deal,  but  yielded 
when  told  by  Charles  that  if  he  refused  to  extend  his  hand 
it  might  be  considered  as  a token  of  hostility. 

The  Indian  wore  upon  his  garments  a great  many  bears’- 
claws  and  porcupine-quills ; and  behind,  hanging  from  his 
feathered  head-dress,  was  the  skin  of  a large  rattlesnake, 
reaching  nearly  to  his  heels.  The  rattles  were  still  on 
the  lower  end  of  it,  and  at  every  motion  of  his  body 
they  gave  forth  the  startling  sound  so  terrifically  familiar 
to  the  ears  of  the  first  settlers  of  every  portion  of  our 
country. 

The  Indian  was  invited  to  eat  as  soon  as  Rose  could  re- 
adjust the  table.  When  he  had  finished  eating,  Mrs. 
Schooley  lighted  his  pipe,  and  Charles  smoked  with  him. 

“My  Seneca  brother,”  said  Charles,  in  the  Indian  lan- 
guage, “ has  threatened  the  White  Eagle.  It  was  done  in 
sport,  was  it  not  ?” 

“ The  Rattlesnake  listened  to  the  voice  of  the  great  chief, 
Captain  Pipe,  and  did  his  bidding.  The  Rattlesnake  does 
not  aim  his  fangs  at  the  White  Eagle.” 

“ The  White  Eagle  is  glad  to  hear  it,  and  he  smokes  the 
pipe  of  peace  with  his  brother.  But  he  would  have  the 
Seneca  chief  listen  to  his  voice  also.  He  would  have  him 
say  to  the  great  Captain  Pipe  that  he  fears  him  not,  nor 
any  other  captain  who  threatens  at  a distance ; but,  that 
if  the  Antelope  should  be  molested,  the  White  Eagle  would 
soar  to  the  top  of  the  highest  mountain,  whence  he  could 
see  his  farthest  enemy;  and  the  bird  of  the  fleetest  wing 
wquld  soon  alight  upon  him.” 

The  Seneca  promised  to  deliver  the  message,  and  at  the 
same  time  declared  that  Thayendanegea  was  entirely  igno- 
rant of  what  had  been  done  to  offend  his  brother. 

Charles  learned  from  this  Indian,  who  was  but  a minor 
chief,  that  the  colonists  had  taken  the  fort  at  Ticonderoga, 


60  * WILD  WESTERN  ^SCENES  : 

and  that  preparations  for  war  were  being  made  everywhere 
m the  North. 

The  Seneca  soon  after  set  out  in  quest  of  Moody,  for 
whom  he  had  certain  messages. 

Meantime  the  interview  with  the  mysterious  occupant  of 
the  humble  hut  took  place  under  the  elm  on  the  margin  of 
the  stream  that  swept  along  the  base  of  the  cliff.  Mr. 
Cameron  did  not  apologize  for  not  offering  to  entertain  his 
visitors  within  the  house,  but  proceeded  to  business  without 
delay.  And  when  he  exhibited  his  title,  (it  was  for  five 
thousand  acres,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  Mr.  Schooley,) 
derived  from  the  heirs  of  Edward  Byllinge,  one  of  the  origi- 
nal purchasers  from  Lord  Berkeley,  who  had  his  title  from 
the  Duke  of  York,  and  produced  a plot  made  by  John  Rock- 
hill,  a noted  surveyor  still  living,  neither  Mr.  Green  nor 
the  Quaker  had  a word  to  say  against  the  correctness  of 
his  lines  or  the  validity  of  his  title. 

“And  now,  gentlemen,”  said  the  exile,  “I  believe  our 
business  is  at  an  end,  and  we  must  part  as  strangers.  If 
this  examination  into  my  title  had  not  been  made  a pretext 
for  inspecting  my  premises,  I might  have  desired  a more 
social  intercourse  with  my  neighbours.  I know  it  is  believed 
that  gold  exists  in  these  rocks ; but  such  can  only  be  the 
supposition  of  the  ignorant ; for  any  one  at  all  acquainted 
with  chemistry  would  know  that  the  substances  found  in 
this  region  resembling  the  precious  metals  can  be  nothing 
more  than  worthless  iron  pyrites.” 

When  he  ceased  speaking,  Moody,  who,  as  usual,  had 
been  a concealed  auditor,  came  forward  and  placed  sealed 
packets  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Schooley,  whom  he  knew  by 
his  Quaker  hat  and  coat.  He  then  wandered  carelessly 
aside,  while  Mr.  Schooley  broke  open  the  seals.  They 
contained  letters  both  from  New  York  and  Burlington. 
Moody  had  just  arrived  from  the  former  place,  and  the 
Indian  (who  now  made  his  appearance,  “how-doing”  and 
shaking  hands)  from  the  latter.  From  Governor  Franklin 
he  brought  a commission,  creating  Thomas  Schooley  a jus- 
tice of  the  peace. 

The  Indian,  true  to  his  instinct,  followed  Moody’s  trail, 
and  entered  the  small  ravine  which  opened  into  the  valley 
where  the  interview  had  been  held. 

“No,  mon  ! I tell  ye  no  ! Gae  bock,  or  I’ll  dirk  you  1 


SECOND  SERIES. 


61 


Such  were  the  words  spoken  a moment  after,  in  a loud 
voice,  by  Hugh  McSwine.  And  when  all  eyes  were  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  hut,  Moody  and  the  Indian  were 
seen  retreating,  driven  back  by  Hugh. 

“ If  you  scratch  us  with  your  Scotch  dirk,  I’ll  send  a 
ball  through  you!”  said  Moody,  half  presenting  his  rifle. 

The  Indian  uttered  one  of  his  warwhoops  and  brandished 
his  tomahawk.  Mr.  Schooley  and  Mr.  Green  became  much 
excited.  The  first,  by  virtue  of  the  commission  he  had  re- 
ceived, besought  and  even  commanded  the  white  man  to 
keep  the  peace ; while  the  latter,  who  knew  something  of 
the  Seneca  language,  warned  the  Indian  against  shedding 
blood.  The  white-haired  exile  lifted  a small  horn  to  his 
lips  and  sounded  a shrill  blast,  which  was  answered  by  an- 
other from  the  hut  of  a Mr.  McArthur,  living  near  the  sum- 
mit of  the  range  of  hills.  The  faint  echoes  of  several 
other  blasts  were  then  discernable  in  the  distance,  but  did 
not  seem  to  be  comprehended  by  Moody,  who  was  still 
intent  upon  the  execution  of  his  purpose, 

“I  call  upon  you,  Mr.  Schooley,”  said  he,  “by  virtue  of 
your  commission,  to  arrest  these  men  in  the  name  of  the 
king.  Here  is  a paper  given  me  several  months  ago  by  Sir 
John  Johnson,  in  which  is  described  a certain  fugitive  from 
justice,  and  for  whose  arrest  and  delivery  into  the  custody 
of  any  of  his  Majesty’s  officers  a reward  of  one  thousand 
guineas  has  been  offered.” 

“Dost  thou  suppose  this  Hugh  the  one?”  asked  Mr. 
Schooley. 

“No;  but  the  pale  Scotchman,  if  his  hair  were  not  so 
white,  would  answer  the  description,”  said  Moody,  lifting 
the  paper  before  Mr.  S.’s  face. 

“Art  thou  the  man?”  asked  Mr.  Schooley,  turning  to 
Mr.  Cameron. 

“ What  man  ?”  was  the  reply. 

“ The  Highland  laird  who  fled  with  the  Pretender,”  said 
Moody. 

But  the  exile  made  no  reply,  while  Hugh  gazed  steadily 
up  the  ravine. 

“ I see,”  continued  Mr.  Schooley,  having  adjusted  his 
spectacles,  and  holding  the  document  before  his  eyes  with 
both  hands,  “I  see  that  John  Johnson,  known  as  Sir  John, 
&ath  been  charged  by  his  Majesty’s  ministers  to  seek  a 

6 


62 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


certain  fugitive,  supposed  to  have  taken  refuge  in  the  hills 
of  New  Jersey,  whose  description  followeth,  &c.  Truly, 
my  friend,”  he  continued,  turning  to  the  exile,  “thou  dost 
answer  the  description  in  every  thing  but  the  colour  of  thy 
hair.  The  name,  too,  is  the  same ; for  every  one  knows 
that  the  rebel  Lochiel  was  the  chieftain  of  the  Camerons. 
And  this  paper  further  sayeth  that  there  is  quite  a number 
of  Scotchmen  hidden  in  these  parts,  and  they  are  supposed 
to  possess  several  very  valuable  jewels  rightfully  belonging 
to  the  crown  of  Great  Britain,  but  which  were  seized  and 
carried  away  by  the  second  James  Stuart  in  his  flight  from 
the  kingdom.  One  of  said  diamonds  is  valued  at  five  thou- 
sand  pounds.  Bless  my  life ! What  canst  thou  say  to  all 
this?” 

“Not  one  word  will  I say  to  you,”  replied  the  chief. 
“ If  it  must  be  answered,  let  it  be  before  a proper  tri- 
bunal.” 

“ Proper  tribunal ! Thee  forgets  I am  one  of  the  king’s 
justices  of  the  peace.” 

“ I do  not  recognise  the  king’s  authority.  What  say  you, 
my  friends?” 

“Down  with  the  Usurper!”  was  the  cry  of  some  half- 
dozen  voices ; and  the  next  instant  a number  of  the  brawny 
sons  of  Scotland,  armed  with  dirks  and  rifles,  emerged 
from  the  bushes  and  stood  in  a line  before  the  amazed 
magistrate. 

“What  men  are  these?”  demanded  Thomas. 

“ They  are  the  Scotchmen  alluded  to  in  this  paper,” 
said  Moody;  “and  they  are  too  strong  for  us,”  he  added, 
in  a whisper. 

“ They  are  the  Sons  of  Liberty,”  said  Mr.  Cameron. 

“Sons  of  Liberty!”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  in  astonish- 
ment. “ William  Franklin  urges  me,  as  a loyal  subject, 
to  prevent  the  organization  of  such  a body  in  this  section, 
and  says  it  is  believed  a secret  association,  calling  them- 
selves by  that  name,  are  pushing  their  ramifications  into 
every  township.” 

“ My  friend,”  said  Cameron,  with  a smile,  “your  labour 
will  be  fruitless  if  it  is  the  design  to  suppress  the  Sons  cf 
Liberty.  As  for  you,  sir,”  he  continued,  addressing 
Moody,  “ go  back  to  the  miserable  cave  which  is  the 
repository  of  the  plunder  taken  by  thee  in  the  name  ol  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


63 


usurper  styled  King.  If  thou  wouldst  lose  thy  life  in  his 
service,  die  like  a man  in  the  heat  of  battle,  or  else  bury 
thyself  in  the  murky  shades  of  the  swamp,  so  that  thy 
name  may  never  more  be  mentioned.  And  thou,  so  a of 
the  forest,”  he  continued,  turning  to  the  Indian,  “ fly  far 
beyond  the  trail  of  the  white  man.  Hunt  the  deer,  the 
moose,  and  the  buffalo,  in  the  primeval  forests,  or  on  the 
interminable  plains,  beyond  the  reach  of  civilization. 
Avoid  alike  the  faces  of  the  English  and  the  Americans. 
No  matter  which  side  you  may  choose, — no  matter  which 
party  may  be  victorious, — a union  with  either  will  be  thy 
destruction.  Render  that  into  his  own  language,”  added 
he,  speaking  to  his  son  Charles,  who  had  silently  joined 
the  party,  and  was  now  standing  beside  his  father. 

The  chief  listened  attentively — as  Indians  ever  do — to 
the  speech  intended  for  the  ears  of  his  race.  When  it  was 
finished,  he  merely  replied  that  all  the  lands  and  rivers  had 
been  given  to  the  red  man  by  the  Great  Spirit,  and  he 
would  be  unworthy  the  gift  if  he  fled  before  the  invaders 
from  beyond  the  broad  water. 

During  this  scene  Mr.  Green  remained  silent,  but  did 
not  seem  surprised.  He  had  much  land,  and  was  not  dis- 
posed to  place  it  in  jeopardy  by  hastily  taking  sides  with 
either  party.  Charles  was  indignant,  and  so  greatly  ex- 
cited, it  was  with  difficulty  his  parent  could  restrain  him 
from  making  a desperate  assault  on  Moody. 

Of  course  the  statue-like  Sons  of  Liberty,  who  had 
descended  from  the  hills,  and  now  stood  in  imperturbable 
composure,  each  grasping  his  gun,  put  to  flight  for  the 
time  the  purpose  of  making  the  arrest  in  the  king’s  name. 
Moody  slowly  withdrew,  in  company  with  Mr.  Schooley  ; 
Mr.  Green  and  the  Indian  followed,  while  the  exiled  chief 
motioned  his  small  band  of  Highlanders  to  return  to  their 
homes.  He  then  entered  his  hut,  and  laid  before  Charles 
some  papers  he  had  just  received  from  New  Brunswick  by 
the  hands  of  one  of  Hugh’s  runners, — a red-haired  boy,  of 
an  idiotic  appearance,  but  of  reliable  shrewdness,  called 
Skippie. 

By  these  documents  Charles  learned  that  he  had  been 
appointed  captain  of  a company  of  minute-men,  to  be 
raised  in  his  county.  The  Convention  had  likewise  im- 
posed a tax  of  £10,000,  to  be  paid  to  agents  named  by  the 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


t>4 

committees ; and  until  such  appointments  were  made  the 
captains  were  authorized  to  act,  and  were  to  correspond 
with  the  standing  committee  of  patriots: — James  Kinsey, 
John  Wetherill,  John  Stevens,  Richard  Stockton,  &c. 

Governor  Franklin  was  declared  a public  enemy  by  Con- 
gress, and  his  seizure  ordered — by  the  advice,  it  was  said, 
of  his  own  father.  And  malignant  persons  asserted  that 
the  wise  philosopher  and  his  son  made  a politic  choice  of 
different  sides,  so  that  the  one  who  chanced  to  be  of  the 
victorious  party  might  save  the  other. 

The  Continental  Congress  decreed  that  if  the  Quakers 
could  not  conscientiously  take  the  oath  prescribed  by 
them,  they  might  subscribe  a declaration  as  follows : — UI 
agree  to  the  above  association  as  far  as  the  same  is  con- 
sistent with  my  religious  principles .”  As  many  believed 
it  a Christian  duty  to  be  true  to  the  king,  they  found  no 
difficulty  in  signing  when  hard  pressed.  Such  was  the 
case  in  many  localities  where  the  whigs  were  the  most 
numerous.  But  those  wTho  refused  were  to  be  disarmed,  to 
give  security  for  their  peaceable  conduct,  and  to  “ pay  the 
expenses  attending  thereon.”  And  the  captains  in  the 
township,  or  the  county  committees,  were  to  attend  to  the 
matter  without  delay,  and  were  empowered  to  arrest  and 
imprison  dangerous  persons  at  discretion ; and  all  who 
would  not  muster  when  required,  armed  as  the  law  directed, 
were  to  pay  ten  shillings  for  each  offence,  recoverable  by  a 
distress  warrant. 

“ Now  you  are  invested  with  quite  as  much  authority,” 
said  the  elder  Cameron,  smiling,  “ as  the  Quaker  guardian 
of  Julia  Lane.” 

“ It  seems  so,  sir,”  said  Charles ; “ but  I shall  be  embar- 
rassed in  the  exercise  of  it.” 

“ You  will  accept  the  appointment,  then?” 
u Certainly,  if  you  advise  it,  since  Mr.  Livingston  ac- 
cepts the  appointment  bestowed  on  him.” 

“ You  have  my  permission.  And  I would  advise  you  to 
enroll  your  company  with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  and 
lodge  this  Moody  in  the  new  jail  at  Newton, — else  he  will 
attempt  to  capture  your  father,  not  from  motives  of  duty, 
but  for  the  sake  of  the  reward.” 

“ True,  sir!”  cried  Charles,  starting  up.  “ It  must  not 
be  delayed.  As  I came  from  Mr.  Schooley’s,  I crossed  a 


SECOND  SERIES. 


65 


trail  in  the  woods,  which  arrested  my  attention.  A dozen 
men  had  passed  since  morning,  and  they  were  evidently 
seeking  to  conceal  their  presence.  It  was  not  a mile  dis 
tant,  and  they  must  be  lurking  in  this  vicinity.” 

“Were  they  Indians?”  asked  his  father,  in  some 
concern. 

“ No,  sir.  I marked  their  footprints.  They  may  have 
been  guided  by  one,  however.  It  is  the  tory  gang  of  this 
Moody.  I must  be  up  and  doing,  sir,  for  we  cannot  tell 
what  moment  they  will  fall  upon  us.” 

“ Stay,”  said  his  father.  “ You  must  remain  till  morn- 
ing. It  is  now  growing  dark.  You  know  we  are  impreg- 
nable in  our  defences.  To-morrow,  when  the  sun  again 
illuminates  the  paths,  you  may  seek  these  robbers.  Hugh, 
barricade  the  door ; but  first  admit  the  bloodhound.  He 
seems  to  snuff  the  foe,”  he  continued,  when  the  whining 
animal  was  called  in  and  the  lighted  torch  revealed  his 
gleaming  eyes  as  he  crouched  beside  the  door. 

“ They  will  attack  us  to-night !”  said  Charles. 

“ They  would  depart  in  peace,  if  I would  only  accom- 
pany them,”  said  his  father. 

“ Rather  let  every  one  of  them  perish ! * What  say  you, 
Hugh?”  exclaimed  Charles. 

“Kill!”  was  Hugh’s  reply. 

Charles  was  permitted  by  his  father  to  prize  the  ponder- 
ous stone  door  slightly  open,  so  that  they  might  readily 
escape  in  the  event  of  a sudden  emergency. 

Hugh  prepared  the  supper,  which  was  heartily  eaten,  as 
if  the  presence  of  danger  could  produce  no  diminution  of 
appetite. 

Time  wore  on  until  the  usual  hour  for  rest,  and  still  the 
apprehended  assault  had  not  been  made. 

\ “ They  must  have  abandoned  the  project,”  said  Charles, 

breaking  the  silence  which  had  prevailed  for  some  moments. 

“Perhaps  not,”  said  his  father,  rousing  from  one  of  the 
prolonged  reveries  to  which  he  was  addicted,  and  taking 
up  one  of  the  jewelled  pistols  that  lay  on  the  table,  which 
had  been  presented  him  by  the  unfortunate  Charles  Edward. 
“But  no  matter,”  he  continued;  “there  will  be  strife  suffi- 
cient before  this  contest  is  ended.  And  the  usurper  will 
lose.  Uinike  the  civil  wars  suppressed  by  tyrants,  we 
here  see  the  instigators  of  the  revolution  assuming  the  posts 

0* 


66 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


of  danger.  When  cowards  urge  their  instruments  to  rise, 
keeping  themselves  beyond  the  reach  of  injury,  their  enter- 
prises fail.  It  was  thus  with  many  of  the  Jacobites.  They 
not  only  kept  aloof  themselves,  but  would  not  consent  for 
the  king  to  take  the  field  in  person.  His  son  could  not 
sustain  his  standard.  But  it  is  different  here.  Every  man 
of  note  who  sanctions  the  movement  throws  his  head  into 
the  scale.  The  usurper’s  empire  will  be  ruptured.  Ame- 
rica will  be  lost.  And  the  last  of  the  royal  line  of  Stuarts, 
degenerate  as  he  is,  will  have  the  melancholy  satisfaction 
of  witnessing  it.” 

The  bloodhound  bayed  twice,  'and  sprang  against  the 
door,  which  he  gnawed  with  his  teeth. 

“I  thought  so!”  said  the  exile;  66 and  it  is  quite  likely 
the  leader  of  the  party  has  been  listening  to  my  words.” 
“It  is  certain!”  said  Moody,  without.  “ We  have  heard 
enough.  I have  with  me  some  fourteen  men,  and  resistance 
will  be  in  vain.  In  the  king’s  name,  I bid  you  open  the  door.” 
“ The  devil’s  name  would  be  quite  as  potential  here  as 
the  king’s,”  said  Charles;  “but  neither  will  avail.” 

“We  will  see,”  replied  Moody;  and  the  next  moment 
a dull,  heavy  blow  sounded  on  the  door,  and  nearly  pros- 
trated it.  They  had  lifted  up  a heavy  log  and  projected 
it  forward  like  a battering-ram. 

“Awa’  with  you!  awa’  with  you,  mon  !”  said  Hugh, 
“ or — — ” 

“ Or  what  ?”  demanded  Moody.  “We  are  armed,  and 
quite  ready  to  meet  you  in  that  way.  But  we  do  not  wish 
to  take  the  life  of  the  prisoner,  if  we  can  avoid  it.” 

“No,”  said  the  aged  exile;  “there  might  be  some  diffi- 
culty in  proving  my  identity  and  in  obtaining  the  reward.” 
“ If  you  have  money,”  said  Moody,  restraining  his  men 
during  the  parley,  “we  will  listen  to  terms.  Have  you  no 
disposition  to  offer  a ransom?” 

“None  whatever !”  said  Charles,  and  then  fired  his  rifle 
through  the  door.  The  log,  held  in  readiness  for  the  re- 
newal of  the  assault,  was  heard  to  fall,  and  doubtless  one 
of  the  assailants  had  been  wounded. 

A moment  after,  ten  or  twelve  shots  were  fired  by  the 
party  without,  and  the  door  was  riddled  with  their  bullets: 
but  no  injury  was  sustained  by  those  within,  who  had  anti- 
cipated such  an  occurrence. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


G7 


“Father,”  said  Charles,  44  as  they  have  a great  supe- 
riority of  numbers,  would  it  not  be  well  to  summon  our 
friends  from  the  hills  ?” 

“It  would  be  well,  but  it  is  not  practicable.  However/ 
continued  the  old  man,  44  these  assailants  will  not  be  able 
to  injure  us.” 

44  You  are  mistaken  !”  cried  Moody,  ever  listening. 

44  Then  do  your  worst ! we  defy  you !”  said  the  elder 
Cameron. 

44  What  will  they  do  ?”  asked  Charles,  to  whom  it  was 
apparent  they  were  not  resorting  again  to  the  heavy  timber 
with  which  to  force  the  door. 

“ They  will  try  to  burn  us  out,”  said  his  father,  in  a 
whisper. 

44  They  may  destrov  the  hut,”  said  Charles,  “but  not 
injure  us.” 

64  They  can  do  no  nmre  than  burn  the  outside  shell,”  said 
his  father,  smiling.  44  Do  you  not  observe  how  heavily  and 
completely  the  interior  is  clustered  ? The  cement  is  thir- 
teen inches  in  thickness.  The  logs  outside  will  burn  and 
fall  to  the  ground  * but  the  house  itself  will  remain,  to 
astonish  them,  and  to  furnish  stories  for  the  superstitious. 
Come;  let  us  retreat  into  the  rock.  I hear  the  crackling 
flames  already,  and  the  light  will  bring  down  my  little 
clan  on  their  rear.  Come.  Hugh,  unless  you  would  be 
roasted  like  a wild  boar.” 

44  Let  me  stay,  sir,  until  I feel  too  warun”  was  McSwine’s 
reply;  and  the  father  and  son  retired  into  the  excavated 
rock. 

Very  soon  the  cliffs  of  the  valley,  the  crests  of  the  hills, 
and  the  tops  of  the  distant  woods,  were  tinged  with  the 
crimson  glare  of  the  burning  house.  The  wolves  ceased 
their  howling,  and  the  owl,  stricken  blind,  flapped  down  to 
the  earth  in  mid  career. 

44  Open  the  door,  before  it’s  too  late !”  cried  MeoAy. 

44 Hoot,  mon,  what’re  you  impatient  about?”  waJ  the 
response  of  McSwine. 

44  Where  are  the  others  ? Why  don’t  they  speak  ?” 

44  Gone,  mon,  where  you  canna’  hear  ’em.” 

44  Are  they  smothered  ? suffocated  ?” 

44  It’s  nane  o’  your  business.” 

44  You  seem  to  take  it  very  coolly.” 


U8 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ Yes,  I am  smoking  in  the  chimney-corner.’, 

“ Smoking,  are  you  ? I guess  you’ll  soon  be  burning.” 

“I’m  smoking  my  pipe,  mon,  and  you’re  ower  impudent 
to  be  disturbing  ane.” 

This  was  true.  McSwine  enjoyed  his  pipe  when  the  roof 
was  in  a blaze  and  the  consuming  logs  were  falling  from 
the  sides  of  the  hut.  Yet  it  was  rather  warm  within  to  be 
comfortable ; but  the  surly  Scot  determined  to  bear  it. 
lie  posted  himself  in  the  fireplace  for  the  benefit  of  the 
draught ; but  the  current  of  heated  air  forced  him  at  last  to 
step  through  the  aperture  and  join  his  master.  He  did  not 
remain  long,  however,  before  the  heat  diminished  in  inten- 
sity as  the  burning  logs  fell  away,  and  he  was  able  to 
breathe  again  in  the  hut,  which  he  re-entered,  closing  the 
stone  door  behind  him. 

“ The  old  boy  must  be  roasted  too,  by  this  time,”  said 
Moody. 

“ The  de’il  you  say!”  responded  McSwine. 

“ He  is  the  devil,  I believe !”  cried  one  of  the  gang. 

“ Knock  a hole  through  the  infernal  lime,”  said  Moody, 
“and  let  us  see  him.” 

This  wTas  not  an  easy  matter.  Failing  to  accomplish  it, 
they  once  more  resolved  to  assail  the  door,  which  had  es- 
caped the  flames  by  being  deeply  sunk  in  the  wall.  But, 
before  the  first  blow  was  aimed,  McSwine  sent  another  bul- 
let through,  and  the  timber  was  again  heard  to  fall. 

“He’s  broken  my  arm!”  cried  one  of  the  men,  “and 
I’ll  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  ’em.” 

Shortly  after,  several  shots  were  fired  on  the  right, 
and  then  could  be  heard  the  tramp  of  running  men. 
Another  minute,  and  all  was  quiet.  The  Highlanders, 
aroused  by  the  light,  had  come  to  the  rescue  of  their  loved 
chieftain,  and  at  the  first  discharge  Moody  and  his  robbers 
made  a precipitate  retreat. 

In  the  morning  Charles  was  eager  for  an  immediate 
pursuit.  But  the  aged  chief  forbade  it.  Before  attempt- 
ing to  punish  Moody,  it  wTould  be  prudent  first  to  ascertain 
precisely  the  sentiments  of  the  people : — whether,  indeed, 
the  Federal  Congress  or  King  George  on  such  a question 
would  have  the  greatest  number  of  adherents. 

Yielding  to  the  counsels  of  his  parent,  Charles  strove  to 
suppress  the  deadly  rage  he  felt,  but  harboured  a settled 


SECOND  SERIES. 


69 


determination  to  punish  the  knavish  miscreant  on  sotie 
future  occasion.  He  then  aided  in - rebuilding  the  hut. 
Like  a block  of  granite,  the  lime  and  cement,  though 
blackened,  and  in  many  places  cracked  and  scaled,  still 
remained  standing,  and  the  redoubtable  Hugh  said  it  would 
bear  another  siege  of  fire.  It  was  thoroughly  repaired, 
however,  with  all  possible  expedition. 

During  the  day,  and  as  the  news  of  the  assault  spread 
over  the  country,  it  was  gratifying  to  Charles  to  receive 
tenders  of  assistance  from  many  persons  hitherto  total 
strangers  to  him ; and  it  soon  became  apparent  that  Moody 
had  but  few  sympathizers  and  abettors  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. On  the  contrary,  although  Lochiel’s  identity  was 
no  longer  doubted  or  denied,  no  one  stepped  forward  to 
arrest  him,  tempted  by  the  munificent  reward.  This  was 
a cheering  sign,  and  Charles  lost  no  time  in  communicating 
to  the  people  the  substance  of  the  documents  he  had  re- 
ceived from  the  Colonial  Convention.  Although  at  first 
many  remained  unmoved,  preferring  not  to  commit  them- 
selves at  that  early  stage  of  the  rupture,  yet  it  was  appa- 
rent that  in  any  test  of  authority  between  the  king  and 
the  Congress  the  latter  would  have  the  preponderance. 

Emboldened  by  such  indications,  Charles  commenced 
canvassing  for  volunteers,  and  before  the  eve  of  the  third 
day  he  had  the  names  of  forty  “ minute-men7’  enrolled  on 
his  list.  His  sergeant  was  a herculean  Irishman,  by  the 
name  of  Timothy  Murphy, — a well-digger  up  the  county, 
whose  life  had  been  saved  by  Charles  when  in  the  hands 
of  the  Indians. 

One  day,  leaving  Tim  in  charge  of  the  recruiting  service, 
the  head-quarters  and  rallying-point  being  in  the  vicinity 
of  his  father’s  hut,  where  a temporary  encampment  had 
been  built  both  for  the  shelter  of  men  and  horses,  Charles 
set  out  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Schooley’s  plantation. 

Charles  was  surprised,  when  approaching  the  smithy  of 
Van  Wiggens,  now  in  full  blast,  to  find  a sign  hung  out  in 
front  of  the  dwelling  with  a huge  bear  roughly  painted 
on  it. 

“ What  does  that  mean,  Will?”  asked  Charles. 

“My  Joan’s  doings,”  said  Van  Wiggens,  wiping  the 
perspiration  from  his  fat  cheeks  with  his  leather  apron, 
blackened  with  the  dust  of  the  shop.  “ You  see,  dese  cross 


70 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


road«j  are  dravelled  more  and  more,  and  te  people  keep 
stopping  at  our  house  and  living  on  us.  So  Joan  has  set 
up  a davern,  and  I painted  te  Black  Bear  sign.” 

“ I hope  the  entertainment  won’t  be  as  rough  as  the 1 
sign,  Will.” 

“ Dat’s  uncertain,  and  tepends  on  te  sort  of  guests  dat 
come.  She’s  a fine  laty,  captain,”  he  continued,  in  a whis- 
per, “but  she’s  a Tartar ! As  soon  as  she  was  mistress  of 
her  own  house,  she  began  to  scold  me  about  every  ding. 
And  ten  she  flung  her  shoe  at  me  te  oder  day  for  telling 
some  dravellers  our  ages.” 

“ She  did?  That’s  strange.  Your  ages?’ 

“ Yaw.  I’m  dirty,  and  she’s  dirty-two.” 

“ Women  don’t  like  to  have  their  ages  told,  Will,  if  they 
are  older  than  their  husbands.  But  thirty-two  is  nothing 
to  be  frightened  at.  I suppose  you  gave  her  a taste  of 
your  authority,  as  the  Indians  do  their  scolding  squaws.” 
“No,  captain;  dey  always  said  Yill  Wan  Yiggens  and 
his  dog”  (a  small  brown  animal  of  mongrel  breed,  crossed 
principally  with  the  cur)  “ didn’t  fear  man  or  teiflle — but 
didn’t  say  voman.” 

“I  understand.  Well,  Will,  suppose  you  join  my  com- 
pany?” 

“Keep  tark !”  replied  Will,  in  a very  low  whisper;  “I 
see  Joan’s  cap  bobbing  up  in  te  pea-patch.  I can’t  stand 
it  much  longer — tarn  if  I do ! She  owns  a pig  nigger,  you 
know,  who  larnt  his  drade  in  Burlington,  and  she  says  he 
can  shoe  a horse  better  as  me.  Tam  if  I don’t  go  mit  you! 
Captain,  when  you’re  ready  to  go  after  te  red-coats  or  te 
savages,  send  a note  here  for  Yill  and  his  dog.” 

Charles  shook  hands  with  the  poor  hen-pecked  black- 
smith, and  promised  not  to  forget  him  and  his  dog. 

He  soon  after  fell  in  with  Richard  Schooley,  resting  on 
his  plough  in  a corner  of  the  fence.  Richard  stared  at 
him  in  silence,  and  with  something  like  an  expression  of 
anger  on  his  stoical  brow. 

“Richard,”  said  Charles,  seeing  his  nod  of  salutation 
had  not  been  returned,  “what  makes  thee  so  grum  to- 
day ?” 

“ Thee  knows  well  enough,”  said  Rictiard,  with  a sigh. 
“I  do  not,  upon  my  word.” 

“ Thy  word  don’t  signify.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


71 


“ What  ? Do  you  mean  to  doubt  my  veracity  ? Do 
you  give  me  the  lie  ?” 

“ I did  not  give  thee  the  lie.” 

“ But  to  doubt  my  word  is  pretty  much  the  same  thing. 
Never  do  it  again,  unless  you  wish  to  quarrel  with  me.” 

“ Thee  knows  we  never  quarrel.” 

“ Then  what  the  devil  is  the  matter  ?” 

“ Don’t  use  profane  words,  I beseech  thee.  But,  to  uo 
plain  with  thee,  hast  thou  not  striven  to  win  Julia’s  heart 
away  from  me?” 

“ I have  sought  to  win  her  esteem,  because  I respected 
her.  Have  you  really  loved  her,  Richard?” 

“ Oh,  deeply ! almost  desperately  ! and  if  thee  would  not 
see  me  miserable,  thee  will  forsake  her  and  seek  some  other 
maiden.” 

“ I am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so,  Richard.  But  still,  if 
it  should  so  happen  that  Julia  be  loved  by  me  also,  why 
not  seek  some  other  maiden  yourself?” 

“ Thee  knows  we  were  children  together ; and  thee  must 
know  that  both  my  father  and  mother  told  me  that  Julia 
was  to  be  my  wife.” 

“ Indeed!  But  then  thee  knows  that  Julia  and  I were 
companions  at  Mr.  Livingston’s  when  she  was  a young 
lady  and  I a young  man.” 

“ I know  it ! And  my  mother  always  said  that  evil 
might  come  from  such  indulgence.” 

“ Thy  father,  her  guardian,  had  no  right  to  restrict  her 
in  the  choice  of  a residence  or  in  the  selection  of  con> 
panions.  There  is  but  one  way,  I fear,  Richard,  to  settle 
the  difficulty.” 

“ If  thee  knows  any  way,  so  I can  espouse  the  maiden,  I 
will  be  obliged  to  thee.” 

“ Would  the  maiden  espouse  thee,  Richard,  if  I were  re- 
moved out  of  the  way?” 

“ I think  she  would,  in  time,  if  father  could  persuade 
her  to  attend  our  meetings.” 

64  Oh,  is  that  all?  Well,  the  way  to  adjust  the  difficulty 
between  us  is,  I suppose,  to  fight  a duel.  The  survivor 
will  then  have  no  rival.” 

46  Thee  knows  I durst  do  no  such  thing !”  said  Richard, 
with  an  encrimsoned  visage;  “ and  thee  does  very  ill  in 
naming  it.” 


72 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


44  I beg  your  pardon,  Richard.  But  declare  thy  passion 
to  Julia,  if  thou  wilt,  and  receive  her  answer.  Know  that  I 
love  her  as  well  as  thyself.  She  must  be  the  arbiter  of  her 
own  fate.” 

44  Stay!”  said  Richard,  seeing  Charles  about  to  move  on. 
44  If  thee  marries  her,  thee  being  a rebel  as  Mr.  Moody 
says,  thou  wilt  bring  her  to  beggary,  for  all  her  lands  will 
be  confiscated.” 

44  Fool !”  ejaculated  Charles.  44  The  Malcha  Manito  is 
now  moving  thee.  Gold  is  thy  god,  and  the  god  of  too 
many  of  thy  persuasion.  I thought  thee  capable  of  wor- 
shipping the  lovely  Julia ” 

44  Thee  knows  we  never  worship  any  mortal  being,”  said 
Richard,  interrupting  him. 

44  Oh,  yes,  I know  it.  You  merely  sought  her  estates. 
But  learn,  sir,  that  her  union  with  me  might  be  the  only 
means  of  saving  them.  Congress  can  confiscate  as  well  as 
the  king.  Follow  me  to  the  house;  I have  more  to  say  on 
this  subject.” 

Charles  put  spurs  to  his  steed,  and  never  paused  until  he 
reached  the  stile  in  front  of  the  dwelling. 

He  was  met  in  the  entry  by  Julia,  who  chanced  to  be 
passing  out,  accompanied  by  her  faithful  dog.  She  wore  a 
troubled  countenance,  which  soon  vanished,  however,  in 
the  hearty  greetings  that  followed. 

44  Meet  me  at  the  sycamore,”  Charles  whispered,  as  he 
passed  on  to  accost  Mr.  Schooley,  whose  approaching  step 
his  keen  ear  had  detected.  Julia  vanished  in  silence,  which 
was  a sufficient  response  for  the  lover. 

44  Good-morning,  Charles,”  said  Mr.  Schooley;  “I  have 
wished  to  see  thee  on  serious  matters,”  he  continued,  as  he 
led  the  young  man  into  the  sitting-room,  where  Mrs. 
Schooley’s  foot  was  propelling  the  incessant  spinning- 
wheel.  She  nodded  her  staid  chin  at  him,  and  stared  a 
brief  moment  through  ber  spectacles. 

64 1 am  sorry,  Charles,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  when  they 
were  seated,  64  that  thy  father  is  truly  the  rebel  laird  who 
waged  war  against  the  King  of  Great  Britain.” 

44 And  I am  proud  of  it,  sir!”  said  Charles. 

44 1 hope  thee  will  be  calm.  Thee  knows  it  is  a grievous 
)ffence  for  one  to  take  up  arms  against  the  sovereign.” 

44  King  George  was  not  the  rightful  king.  Thou  knowest. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


73 


Thomas,  it  was  the  Stuarts  who  granted  religious  liberty  to 
the  outcast  members  of  thy  society  when  they  landed  in 
this  country.’ 

“ That  is  true ; but  we  are  bound  to  honour  the  rulers 
set  over  us,  without  discussing  their  right  to  govern.”  . 

“Very  good,  Thomas,”  said  Charles,  quickly;  “and  if 
you  remain  of  that  opinion  long,  you  and  I will  concur  in 
honouring  the  Congress,  which  will  soon  be  omnipotent. 
King  George  III.  has  ceased  to  reign  in  America.  I 
renounce  all  allegiance  to  him !” 

“ What ! what  dost  thou  say  ?”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Schooley, 
the  thread  snapping  asunder  in  her  fingers  and  the  wheel 
abruptly  pausing  in  its  revolutions. 

“I  say,”  continued  Charles,  “ so  surely  as  thy  wheel 
has  ceased  to  revolve,  Mary,  a great  revolution  has  begun 
in  this  country.” 

“ Thee  is  mistaken!  thee  is  mad!”  said  she,  her  foot 
again  violently  in  motion. 

“ Yes,  thou  art  greatly  in  error,  Charles,”  said  Mr. 
Schooley;  “ and  I desire  thee  to  pay  particular  attention 
to  what  I am  going  to  say.  Thou  knowest  I am  a magis- 
trate, and  it  is  my  duty  to  arrest  any  offender  that  may  be 
pointed  out  within  the  limits  of  my  jurisdiction.  Thy  father 
confesses  he  is  the  individual  described  in  the  document 
that  Bonnel  received  from  John  Johnston,  called  Sir  John. 
Thy  father  hath  resisted  the  king’s  authority ” 

“Certainly,”  said  Charles;  “he  resisted  the  king’s 
claim  to  the  throne.” 

“ Thee  knows  how  deadly  an  offence  that  was.  Well,  it 
is  incumbent  on  me  to  discharge  my  duty,  else  my  com- 
mission becomes  derelict.  Thee  knows,  if  thy  father  be 
taken,  he  will  not  be  entitled  to  a trial,  as  he  hath  been 
condemned  already.  The  king’s  signature  will  merely  be 
required  to  his  death-warrant,  and  then  he  must  be  exe- 
cuted. Such,  thee  must  know,  was  the  case  with  his  bro- 
ther, Dr.  Cameron.  Now,  inasmuch  as  I dislike  being 
made  the  instrument  of  the  vengeance  of  the  law,  and  as  I 
have  still  a regard  for  thee,  notwithstanding  thou  hast 
done  very  wrong  in  attempting  to  woo  away  my  ward,  I 
confess  to  thee  that  I feel  an  inclination — which  the  moni- 
tor within  seems  hourly  to  strengthen — to  decline  the  com- 
mission sent  me,  and  remain  an  inoffensive  spectator  of 


74 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


the  scenes  of  violence  and  bloodshed  which  I very  much 
fear  will  be  the  result  of  the  rebellious  conduct  of  the 
politicians.  ” 

“I  think,  Thomas,”  said  Charles,  “that  thou  art  moved 
now  by  the  right  spirit,  and  that  thou  wilt  do  well  ii? 
yielding  to  its  monitions.” 

“But  then,  Charles,  thee  knows,  if  I would  keep  myself 
entirely  aloof  from  implication,  there  must  be  an  uttei 
severance  between  every  member  of  my  family  and  those 
who  foolishly  embark  in  the  rebellion.” 

“ I understand  thee,  Thomas.  Thou  canst  not  see  that 
this  outburst  is  a revolution,  instead  of  a rebellion.  And 
thou  wouldst  stipulate  that  I should  cease  to  visit  Julia,  the 
only  Christian  friend  I ever  knew  besides  my  father,  so 
that  her  fortune — which  I do  protest  forms  no  portion  of 
my  motive  in  seeking  her  hand — may  remain  with  thine, 
and  become  thy  son’s  when  thou  art  dead  (and  all  must 
die)  and  canst  not  even  be  a witness  of  the  happiness  his 
wealth  is  to  secure  him  ? Oh,  Thomas,  Thomas,  I very 
much  fear,  after  all,  the  invisible  spirit  within,  which  fur- 
nishes thee  the  law  for  thy  conduct,  is  sometimes  a very 
dangerous  and  irresponsible  monitor — the  devil  himself!” 

“ Thou  art  uttering  a vile  profanation !”  cried  Mary, 
dropping  her  thread  and  silencing  the  wheel. 

“ I am  sorry  for  thee  !”  said  Thomas. 

“Be  not  uneasy  on  my  account,”  continued  Charles; 
“ but  tremble  for  thyself.  Mammon  and  the  true  God 
cannot  be  honestly  worshipped  at  the  same  time  or  by  the 
same  individual.  In  regard  to  Julia,  in  heaven’s  name,  let 
her  be  the  arbitress  of  her  own  fate ! Let  her  decide  for 
herself  in  matters  pertaining  to  her  affections.  Her 
father  never  supposed  he  was  delegating  to  you  the  privi- 
lege of  choosing  a husband  for  his  daughter ; and,  if  it  had 
been  his  purpose  to  bestow  her  lands  upon  your  family,  he 
might  have  done  it  in  a more  direct  manner.  No,  Thomas; 
I will  make  no  such  compact  with  thee.” 

“ Then  thee  knows  the  consequence.  I must  not  be  im- 
plicated with  my  ward  if  she  casts  her  lot  among  the  rebels. 
I must  convince  John — called  Sir  John — that  I am  a loyal 
subject.  I must  deliver  thy  father  into  the  custody  of  his 
Majesty’s  governor  of  this  colony.” 

“Very  well.  But,  Thomas,  thy  messengers  travel  veiy 


SECOND  SERIES. 


75 


slowly,  else  thou  -wouldst  have  known,  as  I do,  that  Wil- 
liam Franklin,  late  his  Majesty’s  governor,  is  now  a pri- 
soner, having  been  declared  a public  enemy  by  Congress; 
and  his  successor  will  be  my  friend,  and  Julia’s  friend,  and 
my  father’s  friend,  William  Livingston.” 

“ Thee  seems  to  be  in  earnest,”  said  Thomas,  in  per- 
plexity. “ Thou  hast  never  attempted  to  misrepresent 
any  thing,  and  I must  do  thee  the  justice  to  say  so.” 

44  What  I say  is  the  truth.  And  now  I have  a duty  to 
perform.  By  these  orders  it  is  my  duty  to  require  thy 
signature  to  this,”  continued  Charles,  placing  a form  of  the 
Declaration  on  the  table  ; “ and  power  is  given  me  to  arrest 
those  wFo  decline  it,  if  they  do  not  give  security  for  their 
good  conduct.  Be  not  so  pale,  Mary,  for  thou  art  not  in 
danger.  I will  be  his  surety.  I do  not  believe  that 

Thomas  advised  the  attack  on  my  father’s  house 

44  Thee  speaks  truly,  Charles,”  said  Mr.  Schooley. 

“ No.  I have  never  knovfn  one  of  thy  society  to  counsel 
violence.” 

“ That  is  just,  Charles,”  said  Mary. 

“ But  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  measures  they  advise 
are  sometimes  calculated  to  produce  bloodshed.” 

“ What  does  thee  mean,  Charles?”  asked  Thomas. 

“ I mean,  that  although  the  slaves  at  Amboy  w'ere  incited 
to  insurrection  by  the  abolition  declarations  and  teachings 
of  John  Wroolman,  the  pious  tailor  remained  in  his  shop  at 
Mount  Holly  instead  of  heading  the  negroes.  Several 
were  executed ; and  it  strikes  me  that  the  blood  which  was 
shed — both  that  of  the  negroes  and  their  victims — flowTed  in 
consequence  of  Woolman’s  intermeddling.” 

“ John  was  a conscientious  man,”  said  Mary,  who  knew’ 
him  well;  44  but  it  wTas  an  unintended  wrong  to  speak  such 
dangerous  things  to  our  slaves.” 

“ Whatever  might  have  been  the  intention,  the  result, 
was  most  lamentable,”  said  Charles.  “Yet,  I reneat,  I 
have  never  known  a Quaker  to  participate  directly  in  acts 
of  violence.  But  they  are  not  slow  to  grasp  at  the  wealth 
squandered  by  others;  and,  consequently,  1 think  they 
should  not  be  exempted  from  contributing  something  to  de- 
fray the  expenses  of  a just  war,  in  which  the  government 
that  protects  them  may  be  involved,  even  if  they  are  op- 
posed to  the  shedding  of  blood.  Therefore,  if  thy  son 


76 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


Richard  will  not  join  the  ranks,  armed  as  the  law  directs, 
he  must  be  prepared  to  bear  the  expenses  of  a substitute/ 

Charles  then  mounted  his  horse  and  galloped  to  the 
sycamore  overshadowing  the  Council  Rock;  and  when 
Richard  joined  his  parents  a few  minutes  after,  and  learned 
what  had  been  said  in  relation  to  him,  he  could  only  stare 
in  blank  amazement. 

Julia  had  been  some  time  awaiting  Charles. 

“ Your  guardian  will  be  quiet  now,  Julia, ” said  Charles, 
exhibiting  his  papers  and  assuming  an  air  of  authority. 
“ Instead  of  arresting  my  father,  he  is  indebted  to  my  for- 
bearance for  escaping  an  arrest  himself.  I acquit  him, 
however,  of  any  participation  in  the  incendiary  assault. 
As  much  as  I dislike  the  Quakers,  I do  not  think  any  of 
them  v7ould  be  capable  of  sanctioning  such  acts  as  that.” 

“No,  indeed/’  said  Julia;  “at  least,  I am  sure  Mr. 
Schooley  would  never  participate  in  them.  But  what  did 
they  say  respecting  me ?” 

“ Oh,  a great  deal.  They  desired  me  never  to  see  you 
more.” 

“ Indeed , Mr.  Basilisk  ! They  fear  you  will  fascinate 
me,  I suppose.” 

“Or  rather  that  I will  envenom  your  heart  against 
Richard  ! But  the  fellow  is  large  enough  to  muster;  and, 
since  he  will  remain  at  home  and  fill  a labourer’s  place  in 
the  field,  I intend  to  make  him  pay  for  a substitute  in  the 
little  army  under  my  command.  Yes ! before  they  knew 
their  idol  William  had  ceased  to  govern  or  to  enjoy  his 
liberty,  they  proposed — I mean  Mr.  Schooley  proposed — to 
resign  his  commission,  and  thereby  suffer  my  father  to 
escape  arrest,  and  the  executioner’s  block,  as  a sort  of 
equivalent  for  my  relinquishment  of  your  society.” 

“ Surely  they  put  a very  high  estimate  upon  it ! But 
then  they  have  almost  intimated  a purpose  to  relinquish  it 
themselves;  for  my  good  guardian  has  hinted  at  the  ne- 
cessity of  returning  to  Burlington,  since  we  too  may  be 
liable  to  such  outrages  as  happened  on  your  father’s 
premises.” 

“ And  what  could  you  say  in  reply  to  that  ?” 

“ I read  to  him  Kate  Livingston’s  letter  brought  by  the 
last  express.  She  writes  that  her  father  thinks  it  will  soon 
be  unsafe  for  her  to  remain  in  the  old  settlements,  and  she 


SECOND  SERIES. 


77 


lias  a strong  desire  to  be  here  with  me.  She  is  enchanted 
she  says,  with  my  descriptions  of  life  and  scenery  in  the 
forest.’' 

“But  did  not  Thomas  say  something  in  behalf  of  poor 
Richard  ?” 

“Not  directly.  But  both  he  and  Mary  expatiated  on 
the  beauties  of  Quakerism,  and  seemed  anxious  I should 
join  the  meeting.  That  obstacle  removed,  Richard’s  su- 
perior merits  would  doubtless  secure  the  inestimable  prize. 
But  why  do  you  stare  so  ? Oh,  there  are  new  pictures  on 
the  tree  ! Read  them  for  me,”  she  added,  when  they  had 
risen. 

“Blue  Pigeon  has  arrived  writh  a message  from  my 
mother !” 

“From  your  mother?  Oh,  yes,  I remember;  you  told 
me  she  was  ever  indulgent  and  affectionate,  and  they  called 
her ” 

“ Gentle  Moonlight.  And  she  was  truly  gentle.  And 
Blue  Pigeon  was  one  of  my  most  loved  companions.” 

“ But  here  is  the  song-bird  again — the  same  painted  by 
the  other  Indian.  Its  mouth  is  open,  and  it  sings  for  thy 
return.” 

“My  sister  joins  my  mother  in  the  message.  I will 
know  more  when  I see  Blue  Pigeon.” 

“ Is  it  right  to  call  the  Thrush  thy  sister  ? Have  you 
not  said  the  mother  who  adopted  thee  was  only  the  aunt 
of  Brandt  and  his  sister  ? How,  then,  can  they  be  your 
sister  and  brother?” 

“Gentle  Moonlight,”  said  Charles,  with  emotion,  “lost 
her  husband  in  battle,  and  her  only  child,  a little  son, 
sickened  and  died.  This  was  before  my  capture.  After 
her  bereavement,  Brandt  and  his  sister  called  her  mother; 
her  affection  was  bestowed  on  them,  and  they  seemed  to 
love  their  aunt  almost  as  well  as  their  true  mother.  Their 
mother,  seeing  this,  prevailed  on  Sir  John  Johnston  to  pro- 
cure a white  captive  for  her  sister,  on  whom  her  love  might 
be  lavished.  Sir  John  complied,  and  I was  the  captive. 
Gentle  Moonlight  loved  me  as  fondly  as  she  had  done  her 
twn  lost  son,  while  I was  taught  to  call  Brandt  my  brother 
and  Brown  Thrush  my  sister.” 

“ And  they  now  wish  you  to  return — to  ma>ry  Brown 
Thrush,  and  remain  with  them — to ” 

7* 


78 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ Ah,  Julia!  how  can  you  utter  such  bitter  words  ? Am 
I not  free? — a man — and  a white  man  ? Have  I not  found 
my  father  ?” 

“ Oh,  very  true  ! But  do  not  the  rules  among  the  In- 
dians require  an  unconditional  compliance  with  the  requests 
of  mothers  ? Do  not  all  inheritances,  titles,  and  wealth, 
come  from  the  mother?  Do  not  the  mothers  contract  the 
marriages  and  the  maidens  sometimes  make  the  pro- 
posals ?” 

“Very  true;  but  Gentle  Moonlight  is  not  really  my 
mother,  and  I am  no  Indian.” 

“And  I have  learned  that  the  Brown  Thrush  and  her 
brother  are  the  children  of  the  British  knight.” 

“It  is  so  said,  but  I doubt  it.  They  have  very  fair 
complexions,  it  is  true ; but  I have  seen  hundreds  of  the 
children  of  the  forest  as  fair  as  themselves.” 

“ Then,  as  Moonlight  is  not  thy  mother,  as  thou  hast 
found  thy  father,”  continued  Julia,  archly,  “and  as  thou 
hast  no  Indian  blood  in  thy  veins,  thou  wilt  remain  V 
“ I do  not  know  what  may  be  required  of  me.  I must 
see  this  runner,  this  old  playmate  of  mine,  and  hear  what 
he  has  to  say.  But,  Julia,  whatever  I may  do,  whatever 
may  be  my  fate,  you  alone  have  my  heart.  It  is  thine. 
But  still  I must  feel  a brother’s  affection  for  my  forest 
sister.  A more  gentle  and  loving  creature  does  not  exist. 

She  wrouid  have  died  for  me,  and ” 

“ She  loves  you ! She  loves  you ! But  it  is  no  fault 
of  thine.  Poor,  unhappy  girl ! I wish  she  were  my 
companion  here,  or  I were  with  the  Gentle  Moon- 
light  ” 

“Nay,  Julia,  you  know  not  what  you  say!  You  know 
not  how  soon  the  Iroquois  may  be  hurling  the  tomahawk 
at  the  heads  of  our  race  and  kindred.  Then  the  brave  and 
terrible  brother  of  the  Thrush,  and  the  nephew  of  the 
Gentle N Moonlight,  will  be  upon  the  war-path.  He  will 
descend  the  valleys  with  yells  of  vengeance  for  the  ills  the 
Indians  have  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  white  man.  And 
the  Gentle  Moonlight  and  the  singing  Thrush  must  be 
witnesses  of  the  tortures  inflicted  upon  prisoners.  They 
will  be  chilled  by  the  howls  of  the  Malcha  Manito  which 
dwells  in  the  shrivelled  bosom  of  Queen  Esther — the  re- 
morseless Catharine  Montour ” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


79 


66  Oh  ! name  her  not ! I have  heard  of  her  cruelties — 
and  she  not  an  Indian  !” 

“No,  Julia.  The  whites  are  as  capable  of  committing 
monstrous  cruelties  as  the  poor  Indians.  But  I know  you 
could  never  become  a second  Catharine  Montour,  or  desire 
to  witness  her  savage  fierceness.  She  is  the  daughter  of  the 
French  governor,  Frontenac,  it  is  believed,  and  was  made 
queen  by  the  Senecas.  She  carries  a war-club  and  scalping- 
knife,  and  slays  the  miserable  prisoners  with  her  own  hands  !” 

“ Horrible  ! No  ; I would  not  behold  her.  Nor  would 
I have  thee  see  her.  But  I fear  this  messenger  will  sum- 
mon thee  away.” 

“ I would  not  obey  any  summons  of  hers.  She  is  a Se- 
neca. Among  the  Indians  I am  of  the  bird  tribe,  having 
taken  the  name  of  White  Eagle,  which  was  conferred  by 
Gentle  Moonlight  when  they  made  me  a chief.  I was  under 
the  usual  age,  but  had  saved  the  life  of  Brandt.  I will  tell 
thee  the  manner  of  it  some  other  time.  Queen  Esther's 
totem  is  the  wolf.” 

“ Then  you  might  intermarry  with  the  feathered  tribe,” 
said  Julia,  smiling ; “ and  of  course  the  thrush  is  one  of 
them.” 

“No,”  said  Charles;  “it  is  not  permitted  for  those  of 
the  same  totems  to  marry.” 

“Indeed!” 

“But  then,”  he  continued,  “my  forest  sister’s  totem  is 
the  turtle,  or  tortoise1.” 

“And,  then,  you  might  marry  her?” 

“ Perhaps,  if  I desired  it.  But  see  ! Solo  is  bristling 
up,  and  growls.  Behold,  yonder  comes  Blue  Pigeon  ! He 
has  sought  me  at  my  father’s  house,  and  returns  to  the  tree. 
Be  quiet,  Solo  ! And  my  poor  horse,  Yameder,  pricks  up 
his  ears.  Will  you  remain  ? You  may,  if  you  desire  it ; 
but  you  will  not  understand  our  language.” 

“ Yes,  I will  remain.” 

When  the  Blue  Pigeon  recognised  Charles,  after  a long 
pause,  he  sprang  forward  and  clasped  him  in  his  arms ; 
and,  upon  being  informed  that  Julia  was  the  Antelope  of 
whom  he  had  doubtless  heard  Brandt  speak,  he  offered  his 
hand,  and  uttered  the  word  “sister”  in  good  English.  And 
Julia,  struck  by  his  noble  features  and  perfect  form,  called 
him  “brother.” 


80 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES! 


“Now,  my  brother,”  said  Charles,  “my  ear  is  open.  I 
am  ready  to  hear  the  words  of  my  mother.” 

“The  Gentle  Moonlight,”  said  the  young  warrior,  “has 
been  weeping.  Like  the  dew-drops  on  the  leaves  at  early 
morning,  the  tears  have  stood  upon  her  face.  Her  sister’s 
children  have  striven  to  comfort  her,  but  they  have  another 
mother.  ‘White  Eagle/  said  she,  ‘has  no  mother  but  the 
Gentle  Moonlight,  and  she  beholds  not  her  son.’  She  waited 
very  patiently  until  the  moons  were  ended  during  his  stay 
at  college.  Then  she  sang  with  joy,  and  the  Brown  Thrush 
also  sang  with  her.  But  the  wings  of  her  noble  Eagle  did 
not  cleave  the  air  of  the  mountain.  The  dew  was  not  wiped 
from  her  face  by  the  feathers  of  her  darling  boy.  Thayen- 
danegea  said  the  White  Eagle  had  come  within  a short 
flight  of  his  mother,  but  was  perched  near  an  Antelope  that 
had  charmed  him.  Then  Queen  Esther  summoned  a council 
of  the  warriors,  chiefs,  and  sachems,  and  proposed  that  the 
Five  Nations  should  invade  this  country  and  burn  and  slay. 
But  their  ears  were  closed  to  her  words.  It  was  the  land 
of  the  SagorigliwiyogstJia , (Doer  of  Justice,)  and  if  the 
Indians  loved  the  young  White  Eagle,  why  should  not  the 
pale-faces  love  him  too  ? Then  Gentle  Moonlight  was  per- 
mitted to  speak.  She  said  her  son  had  never  disobeyed 
her.  He  had  said,  when  his  white-haired  father  led  him 
awTay,  that  he  wrould  never  cease  to  love  his  forest  mother. 
And  he  never  lied.  She  would  therefore  summon  him  to 
her  presence,  and  if  he  still  loved  her  he  would  obey.  If 
he  loved  the  Antelope  too,  still  he  would  come  to  the  Gentle 
Moonlight,  and  return  again  to  his  newT  charmer.  He  might 
do  so,  if  he  desired  it.  But  he  must  come  to  his  mother, 
or  she  would  die.  Such  were  her  words,  my  brother,  and 
I have  given  them  truly  to  you.” 

“Blue  Pigeon,  my  brother,”  said  Charles,  “you  have 
seen  the  dew-drops  fall  from  my  eyes  when  you  repeated 
the  words  of  my  mother.  She  is  the  only  mother  I have 
in  the  world.  She  loved  me  ever  as  the  dearest  of  mothers 
only  can  love.  She  loves  me  still.  Moons  may  wane,  but 
a mother’s  love  does  not  decline.  The  White  Eagle  still 
loves  the  Gentle  Moonlight.  My  brother,  look  at  my  face 
and  repeat  my  words  to  my  mother.  Say  I will  love  her 
always.  But  her  Eagle  cannot  say  at  the  present  time 
when  he  will  fly  to  her  wigwam ; — whether  it  will  be  this 


SECOND  SERIES. 


81 


•moon  or  the  next.  But  he  will  come.  He  never  lies.  Ho 
must  first  see  his  white-haired  father,  and  hear  his  counsel; 
and  he  must  take  leave  of  the  Antelope,  who  will  be  sad  at 
his  llight.  Go,  my  brother.  Return  to  the  forest  by  the 
clear  waters  where  you  and  I have  hunted  the  deer  and  the 
bear.  We  were  very  happy  then.  I shall  again  behold 
the  wild  scenes  through  which  we  loved  to  roam.  Tell  my 
mother  I often  see  her  in  my  dreams.  I awake  and  find 
myself  near  the  torn  fields  of  the  white  man.  I hide  my 
face  and  try  to  dream  again.  I would  dream  forever.  Fare- 
well, my  brother.  I have  finished  until  we  meet  again. ” 

Charles  remained  in  a profound  reverie  after  Blue  Pigeon 
had  departed,  which  even  Julia  did  not  seek  to  break  until 
the  silence  became  painful. 

“Is  it  not  as  I conjecture  ?”  asked  Julia. 

“Precisely,”  said  Charles.  “My  mother  has  sent  for 
me.” 

“And  you  have  declined  going  ?” 

“No,  Julia.  She  consents  to  my  return  hither  after 
seeing  her.  I have  sent  her  word  that  I will  come ; but  I 
could  not  say  when.  I must  consult  my  father,  and  also 
General  Livingston/’ 

“ They  will  keep  you  with  them  or  kill  you  if  you  again 
put  yourself  in  their  power,”  said  she. 

“ No — I fear  nothing.  They  durst  not  injure  me.  War 
is  not  declared  by  them.  I may  prevent  it.  If  not,  I can 
return  hither.” 

“ But  will  they  really  consent  to  it  ?” 

“ I suppose  so.  If  not,  I could  easily  escape.  Adieu. 
I must  see  my  father  and  send  his  runner,  the  boy  Skippie, 
to  General  Livingston,  or  Governor  Livingston,  or  whatever 
his  title  may  be  by  this  time.  Have  your  letter  for  Kate 
in  readiness ; but  do  not  prevail  on  her  to  urge  her  father 
to  decide  against  my  visit  to  the  lakes.  It  is  only  a few 
days’  travel.  At  this  season  the  Indians  are  at  .home,  pe- 
titioning De-o-ha-ho,  the  spirit  who  presides  over  the  growth 
of  corn,  beans,  and  squashes.  In  the  fall  they  might  be 
in  the  great  western  hunting-grounds  beyond  the  Ohio, 
whither  Gentle  Moonlight  sometimes  accompanies  them, 
for  she  used  to  take  me  thither.” 

“And  you  have  seen  the  ‘Dark  and  Bloody  Ground’  in 
Kentucky?” 


82 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


4CYes,  and  a fairer  land  the  sun  never  shone  upon. 
Many  a happj  day  have  I passed  under  its  maples,  and 
many  a blissful  dream  of  Kentucky  still  illumines  my 
slumbers.  Adieu  !” 

lie  galloped  away,  while  the  maiden,  with  a throbbing 
bosom,  gazed  after  him  until  he  vanished  from  her  sight. 
She  then  turned  her  footsteps  toward  home,  warbling  a 
plaintive  ditty,  and  thinking  of  the  Indian  maiden  who  bore 
the  name  of  one  of  the  sweetest  of  wild-wood  songsters. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PADDY  TOMAHAWKED  AND  SCALPED — CHARLES  STARTS  ON 
HIS  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

As  had  been  predicted,  William  Livingston  had  been 
appointed  governor  by  the  people’s  Colonial  Legislature  ; 
and  at  the  moment  when  Skippie  was  admitted  into  his 
cabinet  the  governor  was  inditing  a letter  to  Charles,  urg- 
ing him  to  make  an  excursion  into  the  Indian  country  for 
the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  intentions  of  the  tribes 
regarding  the  war  with  the  mother  country,  which  was  now 
waged  in  earnest ; so  that  the  visit  of  the  young  man  to 
the  fondly-rememberqd  scenes  and  friends  of  his  youth  was 
to  meet  no  impediment  in  that  quarter. 

And  soon  after  Skippie’s  return  the  father  of  Charles 
yielded  a reluctant  consent  to  the  journey.  Mr.  Schooley, 
whose  discretion  led  him  to  adopt  an  obscure  and  inoffensive 
position  between  the  contending  parties,  but  who  could  not 
be  induced  to  relinquish  the  idea  of  marrying  his  son 
Richard  to  Julia,  heartily  approved  the  project.  But 
Julia’s  objections  remained  to  be  overcome.  Charles  met 
her  almost  daily  at  the  sycamore-tree,  and  was  still  beguiled 
of  many  iveeks  which  might  have  sufficed  for  performing 
the  journey. 

Meantime,  there  were  rumours  of  preparations  on  the  part 
of  the  Indians  to  attack  the  settlements.  These  accounts, 
so  far  as  it  regarded  the  readiness  of  the  Iroquois  to  com- 
mence active  hostilities  immediately,  were  disci  edited  by 


SECOND  SERIES. 


8« 

Charles.  He  rightly  attributed  them  to  the  instructions  ot 
Moody  and  other  tories,  issued  by  the  agents  of  the  crown 
as  a means  of  keeping  the  people  in  continual  alarm  and 
preventing  them  from  sending  succours  to  the  American 
army. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  a ivell-ascertained  fact  that  several 
small  parties  of  roving  savages  had  committed  depredation? 
near  the  Gap  and  in  the  valleys  on  both  sides  of  the  Blue 
Mountain.  A number  of  horses  had  been  stolen  and  one 
or  two  men  had  been  killed. 

Poor  Paddy  was  rendered  very  uncomfortable;  and  Mr. 
Green  related  some  new  story  of  Indian  warfare  every 
evening;  and,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  horrible  tales  of 
tomahawking  and  scalping,  he  never  failed  to  predict  that 
such  scenes  would  soon  be  re-enacted  in  that  vicinity. 

To  such  a degree  had  Paddy’s  imagination  been  wrought 
upon,  that  he  was  often  seen  running  across  the  garden 
upon  hearing  any  unusual  noise.  His  mind  seemed  to  be 
filled  with  fears  of  snakes  and  Indians.  One  day,  when 
Mr.  Schooley,  Julia,  and  Charles  were  sitting  in  the  hall, 
where  the  hum  of  the  small  spinning-wheel  and  the  bang 
of  the  loom  assailed  their  ears,  they  were  startled  by  the 
entrance  of  Rose,  who,  with  dilated  eyes,  said  Paddy  was 
mad — stark,  staring  mad — in  the  garden,  and  was  then 
dancing. 

“ Does  thee  say  dancing  ?”  asked  Mr.  Schooley,  rising 
indignantly;  for  any  thing  like  dancing  was  an  abomination 
in  his  sight.  He  was  followed  by  Julia  and  Charles  and 
the  Newfoundland  dog. 

Sure  enough,  Paddy  was  seen  springing  about  in  every 
direction,  and  sometimes  leaping  up  perpendicularly ; and 
he  seemed  to  be  continually  striking  at  something  with  a hoe. 

u What  hast  thou  there,  Patrick?”  asked  Mr.  Schooley. 

“ Och,  yer  honour,  a hundred  divils ! It  was  the  great 
sarpint  they  tell  of  in  the  Apocalypse.  It  came  out  and 
lifted  its  head  and  looked  at  me  face,  and  so  I struck  him 
across  the  back  and  cut  him  in  two.” 

“ And  then  thee  killed  it,  I suppose  ?” 

“ And  would  ye  suppose  it?  Take  that,  ye  blackguard  !” 
he  continued,  cutting  at  it  again,  and  then  jumping  aside. 
“ Kilt  him  ? Divil  a bit,  saving  yer  honour’s  prisence.  But 
what  d’ye  think  he  did  when  I cut  him  in  two  2” 


M ' WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 

“Thee  mast  tell,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  “for  I never 
guess.” 

“ Then  see  here,  Miss  Julia,”  he  said,  as  she  approached  ; 
“ as  I hope  to  save  my  sowl,  when  I cut  the  baste  in  two, 
both  ends  began  to  run  afther  me  ! and  when  I cut  them 
in  two,  all  four  of  ’em  crawled  toward  me.  And  I kept 
cutting  till  there  was  more  than  a dozen,  and  all  from  one  !” 

“It  was  a joint-snake,”  said  Charles,  looking  down  at 
the  writhing  particles  of  its  body. 

“Take  care  of  his  head!”  cried  Paddy,  “for  it  won’t 
die,  and  can  run  when  it’s  not  longer  than  Miss  Julia’s 
swate  little  toe.  And  it’s  a jint-snake  ye  call  it?  Well, 
I niver  seed  the  likes  before.” 

“Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  “it  was  an  unoffending 
creature,  and  thee  did  wrong  to  molest  it.” 

“Then  I’m  sorra,  yer  honour;  but  I was  jist  thinking 
of  the  bloody  Indians,  who  they  say  will  snake  up  behint 
-and  strike  ye  on  the  back  of  yer  head  wid  a hard  iron 
tomahawk.  And ” 

“Patrick,”  said  his  master,  “I  see  the  cows  in  the 
orchard,  trampling  the  new-mown  hay.  Go  and  drive 
them  out.” 

“And,  Paddy,”  said  Charles,  “keep  a good  lookout  for 
Indians.” 

- “ Och,  but  you’re  joking  now*  Misther  Charles,  for  I’m 
sure  you’d  niver  be  guilty  of  saying  sich  things  if  you 
thought  any  savages  were  about.” 

Paddy  set  off  in  a brisk  trot,  while  the  rest,  amused, 
gazed  after  him.  He  had  not  gone  more  than  fifty  paces 
before  he  stumbled  against  the  teeth  of  a rake  that  had 
been  left  lying  on  the  ground.  The  handle  flew  up  and 
struck  him  a smart  blow  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and, 
uttering  a piercing  cry,  he  fell  forward  on  his  face  and 
lay  quite  still.  Supposing  the  man  might  be  injured  by 
the  blow,  Charles  and  Mr.  Schooley  hastened  to  him,  while 
Julia  followed  at  her  leisure. 

“What’s  the  matter,  Paddy?”  asked  Charles. 

“Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  deliberately,  “art  thou 
suffering  any  pain?” 

“Why  don’t  you  speak?”  demanded  Charles,  endeavour- 
ing to  turn  him  over  so  that  his  face  would  be  visible;  and, 
after  several  efforts,  he  succeeded. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


85 


“ Murther ! murther ! murther!”  cried  Paddy,  in  such 
stunning  tones  that  even  Richard,  in  the  most  dhtant  field, 
Heard  him  distinctly,  and  paused  in  mid-furrow. 

“Where  art  thou  injured,  Patrick  ?”  asked  Thomas;  and 
then  added,  since  Paddy  did  not  reply,  “ I saw  thee  receive 
the  blow,  but  did  not  think  it  could  injure  thy  head.” 

“ St.  Pater  and  the  Idowly  Vargin  !”  cried  Paddy,  with 
hi3  eyes  convulsively  closed;  “I’m  dying,  dying,  dying!” 
and  the  last  utterance  was  the  loudest. 

“If  you  are  dying,  Paddy,”  said  Charles,  “be  kind 
enough  to  tell  us  what  kill.ed  you.” 

“The  Indians!”  he  yelled.  “I’ve  been  tomahawked 
and  sculped ! One  of  ’em  was  standing  behint  an  apple- 
tree  and  hit  me  on  the  back  of  me  head  ! Then  another 
sculped  me  ! Oh,  the  blackguards  !” 

“ Nonsense  !”  said  Charles,  after  a burst  of  hearty  laugh- 
ter, in  which  Julia  joined,  and  which  could  not  be  wholly 
resisted  by  the  sedate  Thomas.  “ Do  you  not  see  we  are 
laughing  at  you?  Open  your  eyes,  man  ! We  are  not  In- 
dians. It  was  a mistake — a dream.” 

“A  drame  was  it?”  cried  Paddy,  sitting  upright,  and 
opening  his  eyes.  “ But  drames  don’t  hurt,”  he  continued, 
placing  his  hand  against  the  wounded  part.  “ Och,  mur- 
ther! I’m  sculped!”  he  cried  again,  upon  beholding  blood 
on  his  hand.  He  fell  back  and  closed  his  eyes  once  more. 

Charles,  upon  examination,  found  he  had  received  a 
slight  contusion,  from  which  flowed  a few  drops  of  blood. 

“Here,  Paddy,”  said  he,  “is  the  Indian.  Open  your 
eyes  and  see  him.  He  is  our  prisoner.” 

“ He  is  ? And  you’ve  taken  the  blackguard  ? Why, 
Mr.  Charles,  that  is  a rake!” 

“ It  is  the  Indian  that  tomahawked  and  scalped  you, 
Paddy,  for  I saw  him  do  it.” 

“ Saw  the  rake  do  it ! And  you  mane  to  say,  Mr.  Charles, 
that  I hit  the  tathe  with  my  fut,  and  the  helve  came  up 
and  struck  me  behint?  And  I’m  not  kilt,  then  ?”  he  con- 
tinued, rising  to  his  feet. 

“ No,  Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  looking  quite  angry, 
“ and  yet  thee  has  alarmed  the  whole  plantation.  To-mor- 
row, and  the  next  day,  it  will  be  the  same  thing.  There  is 

no  peace  where  thou  art.  Thee  must  leave ” 

“ Lave  ! Did  your  honour  say  lave  ?” 

8 


30 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ Thee  must  leave  such  idle  alarms  to  the  women/* 

“ Yes,  leave  them  to  us,  Paddy,”  said  Julia. 

“And  it’s  cowardice  you’d  be  afther  charging  Patrick 
Pence  wid  ? Och,  Mr.  Thomas,  if  you  could  only  saa  me 
blood  up  onct!  Och,  murther!  look  at  that!”  And  Paddy 
having  pressed  the  back  of  his  head  again,  a few  more 
drops  of  blood  stained  his  hand.  He  did  not  lie  down, 
however,  but  resumed  his  work  in  the  garden. 

Months  had  now  passed  since  Charles  had  promised  to 
visit  his  Indian  foster-mother,  and  he  still  lingered  in  the 
valley  where  dwelt  his  father  and  Julia.  His  father,  hav- 
ing at  first  given  permission  for  the  journey  with  great 
reluctance,  at  length  urged  him  to  set  out,  since  Governor 
Livingston  desired  it  and  he  had  pledged  his  word  to  make 
the  visit. 

Finally,  the  day  of  setting  out  was  appointed  a fortnight 
in  advance,  and  every  preparation  was  made  for  the  event. 
Charles  decided  to  resume  his  Indian  dress ; and,  as  Julia 
superintended  its  completion,  it  may  be  presumed  it  was 
not  deficient  in  tasteful  decoration. 

Sergeant  Murphy  was  to  be  left  in  charge  of  the  company 
which  had  been  formed.  The  men  had  been  assembled 
several  times  for  parade,  armed  with  their  own  rifles,  and 
then  dismissed  to  their  houses.  No  orders  came  for  them 
to  march  away,  and  Governor  Livingston  had  intimated 
that  it  might  be  necessary  for  them  to  remain  in  their  own 
county.  Richard  Schooley  had  failed  to  muster  ; and  his 
father  did  not  neglect  to  pay  the  fine  which  Murphy  was 
charged  to  collect. 

Mrs.  Van  Wiggens’s  tavern  and  shop  prospered  very 
well.  Her  husband,  as  he  had  feared,  became  a mere 
cipher  under  the  thumb  of  his  tyrannical  spouse.  But, 
about  the  time  of  the  departure  of  Charles,  he  was  recalled 
to  the  plantation  of  his  patron  to  act  again  in  the  capacity 
of  overseer,  in  the  place  of  Peter  ShaVer,  who  had  been 
his  successor  in  office,  but  who,  becoming  dissatisfied  with 
his  Quaker  employer,  as  it  was  supposed,  or  his  wages,  had 
absconded.  No  one  knew  whither  he  had  gone.  The  last 
time  he  had  been  seen  was  when  setting  out  one  morning 
on  his  crop-eared  Indian  pony  with  a bag  of  grain,  which 
he  said  he  intended  to  have  ground  at  a mill  some  miles 
distant.  His  object  was  professedly  to  ascertain  \f  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


87 


Quaker  miller  they  usually  patronized  had  not  been  in  the 
habit  of  taking  excessive  toll.  Peter  was  a short,  fat  man, 
something  like  Van  Wiggens,  and  hence  was  distinctly  re- 
membered by  all  who  had  seen  him.  If  he  had  not  ab- 
sconded, the  supposition  was  that  he  had  been  killed. 

And  so  Van  Wiggens  was  now  relieved  of  the  tongue- 
lashings  of  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens  during  the  daj^,  and  was  a 
curious  witness  of  the  preparations  made  by  Julia  for  the 
decoration  of  the  young  chief,  as  Charles  was  often  termed. 
And  more  than  once  he  took  occasion  to  intimate  that,  it 
Peter  Shaver  should  return  before  the  day  appointed  foi 
commencing  the  journey,  he  would  rather  go  into  the  In- 
dian country  with  the  White  Eagle  than  return  to  his  wife. 
But  Peter  did  not  return. 

At  length  the  day  of  departure  arrived.  Charles  had 
taken  leave  of  Julia  under  the  sycamore-tree,  decked  in  his 
elegant  Indian  costume.  His  head-dress  was  surmounted 
with  white  feathers  ; his  buckskin  coat,  leggins,  and  mocca- 
sins, were  studded  with  beads  and  spangles,  or  stained  poicu- 
pine-quills.  His  embroidered  blanket  was  folded  carefully 
and  strapped  behinj  the  saddle,  on  which  he  sat  with  the 
erectness  and  grace  peculiar  to  the  Indians  and  those  who 
have  dwelt  among  them.  He  had  his  rifle,  his  tomahawk, 
a dirk  that  McSwine  had  thrust  into  his  belt,  and — what 
was  shocking  to  some  of  the  inhabitants — a scalping-knife. 
These,  with  a few  indispensable  utensils  for  cooking,  com- 
prised his  equipment. 

His  aged  father  bestowed  his  blessing  upon  him,  and,  turn- 
ing sadly  away,  shut  himself  up  with  his  books.  Charles, 
directing  his  steed  toward  the  west,  disappeared  in  the 
forest,  followed  by  the  cheers  of  his  friends  and  by  the 
light  pursuing  step  of  Skippie,  the  sandy-haired  boy,  of 
whom  it  was  said  he  never  spoke  with  his  tongue  so  much 
as  by  his  looks  and  features. 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


88 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CNE  CRYING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS — THE  PANTHER  AND 
T'JRKEY — PETER  SHAVER — GENTLE  MOONLIGHT  AND 
BROWN  THRUSH. 

Once  more  in  the  solitude  of  the  forest,  Charles  loosened 
the  reins  and  permitted  his  noble  steed  to  walk  leisurely 
along  the  narrow  path.  It  was  one  of  the  old  war-paths 
of  the  Indians,  leading  to  the  great  lakes  of  the  Northwest; 
and,  although  it  had  become  overgrown  and  indistinct  to 
those  unused  to  the  wilderness,  the  young  man  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  discerning  it. 

The  birds  sang  on  every  bough  or  flitted  gayly  from  tree 
to  tree.  The  hare  sat  upright  in  the  wild  grass,  gazing 
without  alarm  at  the  solitary  wanderer.  The  doe  and  her 
spotted  fawns  emerged  from  the  tangled  thicket,  and  drank 
of  the  cool  limpid  water  at  the  gurgling  brook;  and  the 
sun  rode  gloriously  over  all  in  a cloudless  sky,  gladdening 
the  myriads  of  joyous  insects  that  basked  in  its  genial  rays. 

A balmy  breeze  cooled  the  fevered  temples  of  the  wan- 
derer ; and,  as  he  looked  upon  the  inspiring  scene  of  moun- 
tains, woods,  and  streams,  sweet  memories  of  the  happy 
days  of  his  sunlit  childhood  flitted  athwart  his  mind.  They 
came  like  phantoms  of  pleasant  dreams  which  too  quickly 
vanish.  But  he  strove  to  prolong  their  presence ; and, 
while  he  luxuriated  in  the  vision,  consciousness  of  his  pre- 
sent condition  gradually  faded  away.  Thus  he  was  again 
completely  a child  of  the  wilderness,  and  oblivious  of  the 
flight  of  the  passing  hours,  until  the  hooting  of  the  owl 
and  the  darkening  of  the  glades  admonished  him  of  the 
approach  of  night.  His  noble  steed,  too,  had  been  reared 
among  the  Indians,  and  seemed  to  have  an  instinctive 
Knowledge  of  the  direction  his  rider  wished  to  pursue ; for 
Charles  had  long  ceased  to  notice  the  ancient  encampments, 
the  intersecting  paths,  and  the  moss  upon  the  northern  side 
of  the  trees. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


89 


Nevertheless,  after  drawing  rein  and  dismounting  tc 
prepare  his  diminutive  encampment,  Charles  became  aware 
of  his  location.  He  had  descended  the  western  side  of  the 
Blue  Mountain,  and  was  now  upon  the  narrow  bottom  of 
one  of  the  small  trout-streams  emptying  into  the  Delaware, 
some  few  miles  distant.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  a clump 
of  gigantic  trees,  whose  huge  trunks  seemed  like  vast  co- 
lumns supporting  the  blue  vault  above.  There  was  but 
little  undergrowth,  except  the  wild  grass,  upon  which  the 
steed  was  turned  loose  to  graze.  No  fears  were  enter- 
tained of  the  faithful  animal  deserting  him.  The  horse  of 
a solitary  traveller  becomes  attached  to  his  master,  and 
will  not  relinquish  his  society. 

Charles  was  at  no  loss  in  the  forest  to  provide  for  his 
comfort.  With  his  tomahawk  and  knife  the  framework  of 
his  camp  was  soon  completed.  The  small  forks  and  poles 
were  furnished  by  the  thicket  fringing  the  base  of  the 
mountain ; while  the  dry  bark  torn  from  the  trunk  of  a 
gigantic  hickory-tree  sufficed  for  the  roof  to  shelter  him 
from  the  dew,  and  also  for  fuel  with  which  to  cook  his 
simple  repast.  The  rear  of  the  camp  was  protected  by  the 
trunk  of  a large  fallen  tree,  and  at  the  opposite  end  the 
fire  was  kindled ; and,  while  his  meat  hung  before  the 
crackling  fagots,  he  gathered  rushes  from  the  margin  of 
the  brook  and  elastic  twigs  from  the  pendant  boughs,  with 
which  he  prepared  his  couch. 

While  partaking  of  his  frugal  meal,  the  young  man 
several  times  observed  his  horse  lift  up  his  head  and  look 
in  the  direction  of  the  thicket  already  referred  to.  The 
animal  exhibited  no  signs  of  alarm,  and  always,  after  gazing 
a moment,  resumed  his  browsing.  Charles  did  not  suppose 
it  an  object  worthy  of  attention.  It  might  be  a wolf,  a 
fox,  a raccoon,  or  some  other  animal  attracted  by  the  light 
of  the  fire  or  the  odour  of  the  meat,  and  from  which  there 
was  nothing  to  fear.  If  it  had  been  a bear  or  a panther, 
(and  neither  of  which  would  be  likely  to  assail  him,)  his 
horse  would  not  have  retained  his  composure.  And  thus 
this  noble  animal  not  unfrequently  discharges  the  duty  of 
a faithful  sentinel. 

Later  in  the  night  the  moon  arose  in  brilliance,  and  her 
silvery  rays  glimmered  tremblingly  through  the  thick 
foliage  slightly  agitated  by  the  gentle  breeze.  The  beetles 


90 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


chirped  pleasantly  in  cadence  with  the  mournful  wail  of  the 
whippoorwill,  and  the  soft  approaches  of  soothing  slumber 
began  to  lull  the  senses  of  the  youth.  Spreading  his 
blanket  on  the  couch,  and  happening  to  cast  his  eyes  over 
the  fallen  trunk  near  which  he  was  about  to  place  his 
head,  he  beheld  the  face  of  Skippie. 

For  a brief  interval  Charles  remained  perfectly  still  and 
silent,  for  he  had  acquired  the  Indian  hahit  of  suppressing 
the  symptoms  of  any  sudden  emotion. 

“ Why  are  you  here,  Skippie?”  he  demanded. 

“He  did  not  say  no,”  was  the  answer. 

“ My  father  ?” 

To  this  Skippie  nodded  affirmatively. 

“And  you  asked  his  permission?” 

Again  there  was  an  affirmative  nod. 

“ Then  come  in  and  eat ; and  afterward  lie  down  and 
sleep.” 

Skippie  did  his  bidding  in  silence.  This  youth — or  rather 
dwarf,  for  the  wrinkles  on  his  forehead  indicated  that  he 
had  long  since  passed  the  age  of  adolescence — was  one  of 
the  clan  Cameron,  and  had  joined  his  exiled  laird  in  Canada, 
and  acted  in  the  capacity  of  page  to  his  mistress  until  her 
death.  Afterward  he  became  a constant  attendant  on  the 
exile,  and  Charles  was  aw7are  that  he  had  been  of  great 
service  to  his  father  in  procuring  news  from  distant  points, 
(for,  although  exceedingly  small,  he  was  very  active,  and 
seemed  insensible  to  fatigue,)  and  in  warning  him  of  ap- 
proaching danger  on  several  momentous  occasions.  And 
not  the  least  valuable  of  his  qualifications  as  a runner — a 
term  familiar  in  the  Indian  country — was  his  uniform  taci- 
turnity. He  heard  every  thing ; but  nothing  was  ever 
learned  from  him  by  any  but  his  chief  or  trusted  persons 
of  his  household. 

Toward  morning  Charles  awoke  and  rekindled  the  fire, 
but  did  not  lie  down  again.  Perceiving  that  Skippie 
bad  likewise  finished  his  slumber,  he  beckoned  him  to 
approach. 

“Skippie,”  said  he,  “I  have  been  dreaming  of  my  In- 
dian mother.  I was  too  young  to  remember  my  white 
mother.  What  was  she  like  ?” 

“Blue  eyes,  like  the  sky.  Tall,  straight,  fair  skin,  and 
light  hair.  An  angel.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


91 


“Enough,  Skippie  ! I would  not  hear  another  word  in 
regard  to  her  form  and  beauty.  But  was  she  good  ?” 

“An  angel. ” 

“ True.  She  is  in  heaven.  Was  she  not  religious, 
Skippie  ?” 

“An  angel ,”  he  repeated. 

“ I forgot,  Skippie.  But,  Skippie,  I cannot  help  loving 
iny  Indian  mother  very,  very  much.” 

“ She  is  an  angel.”  , 

“ Oh,  true  ! you  saw  her.” 

“ I found  you.  I lived  in  the  woods  five  years,  hunting 
for  you.” 

“ I did  not  know  that,  Skippie.  And  it  may  be  the  rea- 
son why  you  follow  me  and  seem  determined  to  watch  over 
me.” 

“ Bight.” 

“You  mean  it  is  for  that  reason?” 

“I  do.” 

“I  thank  you,  Skippie;  but  I am  now  old  enough  to 
take  care  of  myself ; and  if  any  thing  occurs  during  this 
visit  which  it  would  be  desirable  for  them  to  know  in  the 
valley,  I shall  send  you  thither.” 

“So.” 

“And  you  will  go  ?” 

“ Go,”  he  replied,  with  one  of  his  affirmative  nods. 

The  sun  arose  in  great  splendour  on  the  second  morning, 
and  after  partaking  of  a hearty  meal,  which  had  been  pre- 
pared by  the  skilful  Skippie,  the  travellers  pursued  their 
journey  toward  the  boundary-line  of  the  State  of  New 
York,  and  passed  it  in  the  forenoon.  Then,  turning  to  the 
left,  they  followed  the  old  war-path  in  the  direction  of  the 
lakes  which  ran  near  the  northeastern  corner  of  Penn- 
sylvania. 

When  the  sun  was  midway  in  the  heavens,  Charles  faintly 
heard  a hallooing,  and,  as  the  sound  appeared  to  be  in  the 
direction  he  was  pursuing,  his  pace  was  quickened.  The 
cry  seemed  to  proceed  from  one  in  distress,  and  Charles 
knew  it  was  not  an  Indian. 

Presently  he  detected  the  recent  footmarks  of  a man  in 
a path  that  crossed  the  one  he  was  following ; and,  as  the 
halloo  was  still  heard  at  intervals  on  the  right,  he  dis- 
mounted, and,  throwing  the  reins  to  Skippie,  proceeded 


92 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


cautiously  in  that  direction.  The  path,  which  followed  the 
course  of  one  of  the  small  tributaries  of  the  Delaware, 
soon  emerged  from  the  dense  thicket  of  bushes  and  entered 
the  dark  woods.  And  here  an  unexpected  scene  awaited 
the  young  adventurer.  On  his  right,  and  but  a few  paces 
distant,  in  the  forks  of  a chestnut-tree,  was  a large  pan- 
ther, in  the  act  of  springing  upon  him.  The  animal  was 
in  a crouching  attitude,  its  eyes  glaring  furiously,  and  the 
point  of  its  tail  oscillating  rapidly,  as  is  usual  with  carnivo- 
rous beasts  when  assailing  an  enemy  or  seizing  their  prey. 

The  practised  eye  and  steady  hand  of  Charles  sufficed 
for  the  emergency.  Almost  as  instantaneously  as  thought, 
the  report  of  his  rifle  rang  through  the  woods,  and  the 
panther  lay  struggling  in  its  death-throes  at  his  feet.  And 
even  then  the  animal  might  have  inflicted  a serious  wound 
had  he  not  been  despatched  by  the  dirk  of  Skippie,  who 
bounded  forward  and  stabbed  him  to  the  heart  in  the  midst 
of  his  convulsive  flounderings. 

“Done  that  before!”  said  he;  meaning  that  he  had 
stabbed  other  panthers  and  escaped  their  claws. 

“But  it  was  not  the  voice  of  a panther  we  heard,  Skip- 
pie,”  said  Charles. 

“No!”  said  a stranger ; “but  verily  the  voice  of  one 
crying  in  the  wilderness!” 

“ Ha !”  said  Charles,  descrying  the  form  of  a man  in 
the  same  tree  the  panther  had  occupied,  but  upon  a per- 
pendicular branch  some  twenty  feet  above  the  forks,  which 
he  seemed  to  be  hugging  with  desperate  tenacity. 

“ How  did  you  get  up  there?”  asked  Charles,  seeing  the 
limb,  which  was  without  lateral  shoots,  swaying  backward 
and  forwaird  under  its  heavy  burden. 

“ My  son,”  said  the  stranger,  who  was  a man  of  large 
dimensions,  “ I am  uncomfortable  here.  Let  me  first  con- 
trive to  get  down,  and  then  I will  speak  of  the  manner  of 
my  getting  up.” 

“ Slide  down,  sir,”  said  Charles. 

“ You  are  sure  he’s  dead?” 

“ Quite,”  replied  Charles,  lifting  up  one  of  the  feet  of 
the  animal  and  displaying  its  enormous  but  harmless  claws. 

“ That  was  not  a pleasant  descent,”  said  the  stranger, 
after  descending  more  rapidly  than  he  desired,  and  being 
slightly  stunned  by  his  collision  with  the  earth ; “ but,” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


93 


he  added,  “ it  is  the  mode  of  the  bear,  and  they  say  I am 
as  hardy  as  one,  if  not  as  rough,  sometimes/’ 

‘ ' Now,  will  you  tell  me  how  one  of  your  bulk  and 
weight  could  ascend  such  a pole  as  that?” 

“ God  aided  me,  and  all  things  are  possible  with  him. 
I know  not  the  manner  of  it,  my  friend.  I do  not  recol 
lect  climbing  up  there,  but  I suppose  I must  have  done  so. 
I remember  being  pursued  by  the  animal,  and  mounting  to 
the  forks  when  she  was  at  my  heels.  Many  a panthei 
have  I seen  in  these  wild  woods,  but  never  have  I been 
pursued  before.  Yet  it  was  my  own  fault  or  imprudence ; 
I killed  her  young  one  on  the  wayside,  not  supposing  its 
mother  to  be  within  hearing.” 

“ The  mother  is  never  out  of  hearing,”  said  Charles, 
“ when  her  young  are  basking  in  the  sunshine.  But  who 
are  you?  Let  me  see.  The  Rev.  David  Jones!  I am 
glad  to  meet  you,  sir.” 

“And  you  have  my  solemn  assurance,  my  friend,  that  I 
reciprocate  the  gladness,  although  I do  not  recognise  your 
face.” 

“ We  have  met  several  times,  sir.  Once  at  Princeton 

when  you  disputed  with  the  Presbyterians ” 

“Exhorted — expostulated,  my  young  Christian  friend, 
as  I do  not  doubt  you  are  a convert  from  the  pagans — a 
brand  snatched  from  the  fire.” 

“Again,  at  Burlington,  where  you  denounced  the  doc- 
trines of  Mr.  Odell,  the  Church-of-England  minister.” 

“ Denied — not  denounced — universal  election,  and  the 
indispensable  necessity  of  the  so-called  apostolical  succes- 
sion in  the  ministry.  God  is  quite  as  able  now  as  ever  to 
call  labourers  into  the  harvest-field.  They  might  as  well 
say  that  none  but  Jordan’s  waters  would  do  for  baptism. 
And  I have  heard  of  one  of  the  bishops  sending  to  Palestine 
for  a bottle  of  it.  The  story  goes,  that,  after  he  had  used 

it,  one  of  the  officers  of  the  ship  declared  that and  I 

believe  it,  my  friend.” 

“We  met  again  at  the  foot  of  the  Jenny  Jump  Moun- 
tain, where  you  offered  to  preach  to  the  Quakers  if  thej 
would  take  their  hats  off.” 

“ I did,  indeed ; and  I intended  to  smite  their  god  Mam 
mon,  but  they  would  not  listen.” 

“Again,  I saw  you  commune  with  the  Moravians.” 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


91 


44  That  is  true.  They  are  a good  people,  and  they 
have  the  true  religion,  excepting  their  mode  of  bap- 
tism/' 

44  And  I saw  you  baptize  two  negroes  in  the  trout-brook 

near  the  hut  of  my ” 

44  Ha  ! your  what  ? Who  are  you  ?” 

44  One  of  the  negroes — old  Rose — would  not  go  into  the 
water  until  I killed  a rattlesnake  that  was  basking  on  the 
opposite  side.  And  when  I had  done  so,  she  said  it  was 
the  devil,  who  had  stationed  himself  there  to  keep  her  away 
from  salvation/’ 

46 Now  I recollect  all  that.  Oh!  you  are  the  young 
white  man  who  lived  so  long  with  the  Indians.  That  is 
the  reason  you  now  dress  like  one.  I thought  your 
speech  too  good  for  a savage.  And  you  are  college-bred. 
Charles  Cameron  is  your  name.  Give  me  your  hand 
again !” 

44  And  now  farewell,  Mr.  Jones,”  said  Charles.  44 1 must 
not  withhold  you  from  your  good  work/* 

44  Where  are  you  journeying,  my  young  friend?”  asked 
the  preacher,  detaining  him. 

44  To  the  village  on  the  Chemung,  where  my  Indian 
mother  is  spending  the  summer.” 

44  We  will  go  together.  My  route  lies  in  the  same 
direction.  I go  thence  to  the  Seneca  Lake,  and  along 
Seneca  River  to  the  Oneida.  They  receive  the  gospel 
messenger  everywhere  with  kindness.  With  my  staff  and 
knapsack,  I fear  no  man,  civilized  or  savage.” 

44  But  only  panthers.” 

44  True — panthers,  and  sometimes  a serpent  that  crosses 
my  path.  I have  a pistol  for  them,  but  am  apt  to  forget 
it  until  it  is  too  late  to  use  it.” 

44  But  why  were  you  travelling  in  this  direction?” 

44 1 had  turned  aside  to  pray;  and  when  I arose  I found 
the  panther’s  kitten  playing  with  the  string  of  my  moc- 
casin. I thought  it  right  to  destroy  the  animal ; and  when 
it  cried  under  the  edge  of  my  knife,  I thought  only  of  the 
lambs  it  would  have  sacrificed  if  I had  spared  it,  until 
roused  by  the  furious  scream  of  its  dam  as  she  came 
bounding  toward  me.  Then,  as  I fled,  I thought  I had 
done  wrong.” 

44  Not  so,  sir;  for  we  have  destroyed  them  both,  and 


SECOND  SERIES. 


95 


*he  skins  will  be  trophies  for  me  to  exhibit  to  my  red 
brethren.  ” 

Charles  then  removed  the  skins  from  the  animals,  while 
Mr.  Jones  informed  him  of  all  his  recent  peregrinations. 
Since  the  baptism  in  the  pool  of  the  trout-brook,  he  had 
seen  General  Washington,  and  sojourned  with  his  particu- 
lar frietid,  Colonel  Wayne,  from  whom  he  received  instruc- 
tions to  visit  the  different  tribes  in  Pennsylvania,  New 
York,  and  the  West,  preaching  to  them,  and  persuading 
them  to  remain  neutral  or  else  to  take  up  arms  in  behalf 
of  the  colonies.  And  he  stated,  in  a confidential  tone,  (for 
he  remembered  that  Charles  had  organized  a company  on 
the  right  side,)  that  he  bore,  secreted  on  his  person,  a com- 
mission in  the  army  as  chaplain,  and  was  then  on  duty — 
that  which  had  been  assigned  him.  He  had  passed  through 
the  Yankee  settlement  on  the  Wyoming,  where,  although  the 
people  were  pretty  good  whigs,  they  treated  the  preacher 
with  less  respect  than  the  Delaware  Indians  on  the  beau- 
tiful Wyalusing.  They  seemed  to  hate  the  Baptists  and 
the  Quakers,  and  the  Baptists  and  the  Quakers  were  as  far 
asunder  as  the  poles 

The  process  of  skinning  the  panthers  completed,  the 
journey  was  resumed.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  at  Charles’s 
urgent  solicitation,  mounted  the  horse;  while  the  agile 
young  man,  having  had  a taste  of  his  old  sport,  and  find- 
ing his  appetite  still  unsatisfied,  proposed  making  a short 
hunt  through  the  woods  for  a fawn,  or  a fat  young  buck, 
which  might  be  eaten  at  that  season.  And  he  strode  away 
to  gratify  his  inclination,  promising  to  meet  his  companions 
at  a noted  spring  about  a mile  distant. 

“My  son,”  said  the  bulky  preacher,  as  he  rode  down 
the  path  toward  the  broader  trail  which  he  had  crossed 
when  turning  aside  to  pray,  and  intently  regarding  the 
lithe  form  of  Skippie,  “will  you  not  be  very  tired  travelling 
on  foot?” 

“Tired?”  said  Skippie,  with  an  abrupt  shake  of  his 
head. 

“ It  is  a long  path  we  are  following,  and  if  you  desire  it 
you  may  ride  behind  me.” 

The  only  reply  Skippie  made  to  this  friendly  offer 
was  a quizzical  glance  over  his  shoulder,  with  a smile  of 
derision. 


96 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ You  are  a modest  lad,”  continued  the  benevolent  Bap- 
tist. “ But  you  need  not  fear  to  speak.” 

“ Fear  ! The  de’il !”  at  length  exclaimed  Skippie,  with- 
out deigning  to  turn  his  head  again. 

“ Boy  ! you  sadly  need  baptizing  to  wTash  away  your 
foulness,  or  the  birch  to  teach  you  better  manners.” 

“ Dirk  !”  said  Skippie,  holding  over  his  head  the  bright 
blade  of  the  weapon  named. 

Mr.  Jones  could  not  exactly  comprehend  the  meaning 
of  the  word  and  gesture ; but  he  concluded  that  nothing 
could  be  accomplished  with  so  impracticable  a subject,  and 
he  ceased  to  notice  him.  The  dirk,  however,  could  give 
him  no  uneasiness,  being  incapable  of  fearing  what  man 
could  do,  and  having  really  felt  some  flashes  of  compunc- 
tion when  flying  from  the  panther.  Finding  the  lad  would 
not  converse  with  him,  he  commenced  singing  one  of  his 
favourite  psalms;  and,  as  he  had  a musical  voice,  the  woods 
soon  resounded  with  his. melody. 

He  continued  to  sing  without  interruption  until  startled 
by  a frightened  gobbler  that  flapped  up  from  the  whortle- 
berry bushes  near  the  path.  It  alighted  on  one  of  the 
lower  boughs  of  a spreading  oak,  and,  with  its  long  neck 
stretched  out,  seemed  desirous  of  listening  to  the  spiritual 
song,  so  different  from  the  sounds  usually  heard  in  the 
forest.  But  Mr.  Jones  was  preparing  to  regale  him  with  a 
sound  more  familiar  to  his  ears.  He  had  drawn  forth  a 
pistol  from  beneath  his  black  buckskin  coat,  and  was  taking 
a steady  aim,  when  the  turkey  fell  headlong  to  the  earth, 
his  neck  almost  severed  by  the  rifle-ball  of  Charles,  who 
had  approached  Mr.  Jones  to  request  him  to  cease  singing, 
as  it  frightened  the  deer. 

“A  capital  shot,  that!”  said  Mr.  Jones,  leaping  from  his 
horse  and  lifting  up  the  gobbler.  “ I am  glad  to  see  you 
again,”  he  added,  as  Charles  stepped  forward  with  a smile 
on  his  lip. 

“ Why  do  you  call  it  a capital  shot?”  asked  Charles; 
while  Skippie  sank  down  and  rolled  over  in  convulsions  of 
suppressed  merriment. 

UI  aimed  at  his  body,  I confess,”  said  Mr.  Jones,  with 
gravity ; “ but  the  ball  rose  i fi  a straight  line  and  broke 
his  neck.  It  was  a good  shot  for  a pistol,  and  the  distance 
must  have  been  fifty  paces.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


97 


“ At  least, ” said  Charles,  comprehending  the  mistake 
of  the  Baptist,  and  having  no  disposition  to  undeceive 
him. 

“ Pistol !”  said  Skippie,  through  his  tears  of  silent 
laughter. 

“ Certainly,  a pistol,  my  lad.  Why  do  you  laugh  at  my 
capital  shot  ?”  demanded  Mr.  Jones. 

“Is  not  your  pistol  cocked,  Mr.  Jones ?”  asked  Charles, 
seeing  the  reverend  gentleman  replacing  the  weapon  in  his 
bosom. 

“ Bless  my  life ! But  there  was  no  danger,  it  being 
empty.’  ’ 

“Empty!”  reiterated  Skippie. 

“ Yes,  empty.  Did  I not  just  kill  the  turkey  ? What’s 
this?  No!”  lie  continued,  seeing  the  priming  remained, 
and  inserting  the  ramrod.  “ I don’t  remember  reloading 
it.  I am  sure  I did  not.  How  can  it  be  explained?” 

“I  can  explain  it,  Mr.  Jones,”  said  Charles.  “I  have 
no  doubt  you  would  have  struck  the  mark,  but  then  you 
might  have  spoiled  the  breast  of  the  turkey;  so  I fired  at 
his  neck,  and  killed  him  before  you  had  time  to  complete 
your  aim.  You  thought  the  report  came  from  your  pistol, 
and,  on  seeing  the  gobbler  fall,  it  was  natural  to  suppose 
you  had  killed  it.” 

“It  must  have  been  so!  Well,  wTe  shall  have  food,  at 
all  events.  The  circumstance  reminds  me  of  what  occurred 
to  one  of  our  Pennsylvania  volunteers  at  Braddock’s  defeat. 
Without  observing  that  he  had  lost  the  flint  from  his  gun, 
he  kept  on  pulling  the  trigger  and  ramming  down  cartridges. 
Some  of  the  men  say  he  declared,  as  they  retreated,  that 
his  shoulder  was  black  and  blue  from  the  rebounds.  But 
I don’t  believe  that  portion  of  the  story.” 

As  the  shades  of  evening  descended,  the  party  encamped 
near  the  bank  of  the  Delaware,  on  a level  piece  of  ground, 
where  a small  rivulet  flowed  through  a cleft  in  the  hills 
toward  the  river.  Here  the  turkey  was  dressed  and  cooked 
by  Skippie,  while  Charles  stretched  and  dried  his  panther- 
skins. 

At  supper  a most  ravenous  appetite  seemed  to  have 
seized  upon  them  all,  and  the  two  youngest  could  not  avoid 
evincing  some  anxiety  for  the  termination  of  Jones’s 
lengthy  prayer.  He  not  only  invoked  blessings  on  his 

9 


98 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


young  companions,  but  desired  they  might  speedily  return 
to  a Christian  community.  He  asked  that  the  savages 
might  be  converted  and  baptized ; that  they  might  be  in- 
spired with  a resolution  never  to  shed  the  blood  of  their 
white  brethren  who  had  settled  in  their  forests  ; and,  finally, 
that  the  counsels  of  the  Continental  Congress  might  have 
the  heavenly  guidance,  and  the  cause  in  which  they  were 
embarked  be  gloriously  triumphant. 

And,  after  his  emphatic  “ Amen,”  he  arose  and  silently 
gazed  in  every  direction.  He  did  not  explain ; but  Charles 
attributed  his  conduct  to  the  force  of  habit,  knowing  it  to 
be  unsafe  in  many  places  to  utter  such  patriotic  petitions. 

“Now,  fall  to,  boys,  and  help  yourselves, ” said  Mr. 
Jones,  resuming  his  seat  before  the  fire,  and  literally  tear- 
ing the  smoking  turkey  in  two  by  the  drumsticks ; and  in 
the  course  of  ten  minutes  all  that  remained  of  the  gobbler 
were  his  bones,  his  bill,  and  his  toe-nails. 

In  the  night,  when  the  blazing  fire  made  the  scene  cheer- 
ful, and  when  all  were  in  a comfortable  condition  after 
their  hearty  meal,  Mr.  Jones  would  have  given  vent  to  his 
grateful  feelings  in  songs  of  praise,  had  it  been  deemed 
prudent.  If  there  should  happen  to  be  a war-party  in  the 
vicinity,  on  a nocturnal  march, — a thing  neither  probable 
nor  impossible, — they  might  be  attracted  thither;  and  so 
the  tuneful  inclination  was  repressed. 

But  Mr.  Jones  felt  no  hesitation  in  relating  his  adven- 
tures on  the  Ohio  River  the  preceding  year,  when 
acting  in  the  capacity  of  a missionary  among  the  Western 
tribes.  He  was  relating  a scene  of  burning  at  the  stake, 
a sentence  sometimes  executed  on  prisoners, — a proceeding 
which  Mr.  Jones  did  not  consider  so  barbarous  as  the  burning 
of  Protestants  in  enlightened  Old  England  or  of  Quakers 
in  puritanical  New  England,  on  account  of  their  religious 
belief, — when  they  were  startled  by  the  loud  snorting  of  the 
horse  as  he  ran  toward  the  camp.  In  the  moonlight  it 
was  perceivable  that  the  faithful  animal’s  ears  were  thrust 
forward,  as  he  turned  his  head  over  his  back  ; and  his  eyes, 
catching  the  rays  of  the  fire,  became  illuminated  like 
globules  of  glass  at  a white  heat. 

The  object  causing  the  alarm  wras  evidently  between  the 
camp  and  the  river ; and  perhaps  an  enemy  might  bo 
crouching  behind  the  slight  embankment,  not  twenty  paces 


SECOND  SERIES. 


99 


distant,  taking  a deadly  aim  at  the  hitherto  unconscious 
travellers. 

Charles  turned  his  face  in  the  direction  of  the  intruder, 
so  unerringly  indicated  by  the  horse,  and  gazed  stead- 
fastly, while  Skippie  prostrated  himself  and  applied  his  ear 
to  the  ground. 

“As  for  my  part,”  said  Mr.  Jones,  taking  from  his 
pocket  a worn  Testament,  bound  in  black  leather,  or  lea- 
ther blackened  by  time,  “here  is  my  defence,  and  it  never 
failed  me  yet.”  So,  turning  over  the  leaves,  he  began  to 
read  such  passages  as  he  deemed  the  most  appropriate  on 
such  an  occasion. 

“I  see !”  whispered  Charles,  raising  his  rifle  noiselessly. 
“ It  is  an  Indian.” 

“One!”  said  Skippie,  rising,  and  unsheathing  his  dirk. 

“And  we  are  three,”  said  Mr.  Jones,  lifting  his  eyes 
from  the  page,  and  placing  one  hand  on  his  pistol;  “ but 
do  not  be  the  first  to  fire;  he  may  be  a friend.” 

“I  am  only  in  readiness,”  said  Charles,  endeavouring 
to  fix  his  aim.  “ If  he  raises  his  gun,  then  I will  be 
justified  in  pulling  trigger.” 

But  he  did  not  raise  his  gun.  On  the  contrary,  his 
head,  scalp-lock  and  all,  sank  down  and  vanished  behind 
the  slight  embankment,  and  the  next  moment  his  voice  was 
heard,  saying,  in  very  good  English — 

“ Don’t  shoot ! I’m  a friend.” 

“What  friend?”  asked  Mr.  Jones,  in  his  full,  loud  voice, 
rendered  strong  by  much  preaching.  “What  nation,  if 
you  are  an  Indian?” 

“ I’m  a white  man,”  said  the  stranger. 

“ He  is,  at  least,  in  Indian  costume,  like  myself,”  said 
Charles. 

“ Yes,  but  I’m  white,  though,”  said  the  stranger,  hear- 
ing the  last  speech,  and  now  approaching  boldly.  “And 
you  see  I haven’t  got  a gun.  So  there’s  no  danger.” 

“ Do  you  call  yourself  a white  man,  my  friend?”  asked 
the  preacher,  staring  like  the  rest  at  the  curious  aspect  of 
the  stranger.  He  was  one  of  those  short  fat  men  we 
sometimes  see  who  have  no  necks,  their  heads  growing  out 
between  their  shoulders.  He  wore  leggins;  hunting-shirt, 
and  blanket;  his  head  had  been  shaved,  the  scalp-lock 
alone  remaining;  and  his  face,  plump  and  round,  with  a 


100 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


scarcely-discernible  point  of  a nose,  had  been  fantastically 
painted — one  side  being  red,  with  sundry  black  spots  inter- 
spersed, and  the  other  altogether  black. 

44  Yes;  I’m  a white  man,”  said  he,  like  two  of  you;  but 
I’ve  been  living  with  the  savages,  and  they  painted  me.  I 
thought  once  or  twice  when  I stooped  down  to  drink  that 
my  face  looked  black.  Is  it  very  dark?” 

44  Black,  my  friend,”  said  Mr.  Jones,  44  on  one  side.” 

“I  thought  they  were  making  sport  of  me!” 

44  Who  are  you?  your  name?”  demanded  Charles. 

44  I’ve  a famous  big  name ! One  of  their  greatest  chiefs 
is  called  Cornplanter,  or  Cornstalk — I disremember  which; 
and  so  they  called  me  Popcorn.” 

66  What  was  your  name  before  you  lived  among  the  In- 
dians?” asked  Mr.  Jones,  seeing  Charles’s  diversion. 

44  Oh,  I’m  Peter  Shaver,  among  the  whites.’ 

44 True!”  said  Charles.  44 1 thought  I knew  your  voice, 
Peter;  but  they  have  so  disguised  you  that  your  own 
mother  wouldn’t  recognise  you.  Here,  look  in  this  small 
mirror.” 

Peter  looked  and  stood  aghast,  while  the  rest  could  not 
refrain  from  hearty  laughter. 

44  I’ll  take  his  sculp  for  it !”  cried  he.  44  I’ll  be  revenged, 
if  I have  to  lose  my  life ! The  tarnationed,  rascally  savage  f 
If  I ever  meet  him — and  I’ve  a notion  to  go  back — I’ll  have 
his  sculp  or  his  sculp-lock ! And  if  I can’t  find  him,  I’ll 
give  some  other  red  devil  a terrible  thrashing !” 

44  Suppose  you  begin  with  me,”  said  Charles. 

44 1 don’t  care!”  said  the  indignant  Peter.  44  If  these 
gentlemen  will  see  fair  play,  and  you  won’t  use  any  thing 
but  your  fists ” 

44  Stranger,”  said  Mr.  Jones,  rising  to  his  feet  and 
placing  his  hand  on  Popcorn’s  shoulder,  44  if  you  are  a 
friend,  and  come  in  peace,  sit  down  and  eat  such  as  wre 
can  spare  you,  or  else  depart.  This  is  our  camp,  and  you 
are  our  guest;  but  you  will  be  thrust  out  if  you  do  not 
behave  yourself.  Know  that  Charles  Cameron  is  no  black- 
guard, to  fight  with  his  fists  like  the  degraded  bullies  of  the 
ring.” 

44  Charles  Cameron!  It  is,  by  jingo!  Oh,  I beg  your 
pardon  a million  times ! And  you  are  no  Indian,  no  more 
noi  me!  Don’t  you  know  me? — Peter  Shaver?” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


101 


“ I know  you  very  well,  Peter,  and  have  been  merely 
jesting  when  perhaps  I should  have  been  very  serious. 
Sit  down  and  eat.  You  are  too  late  for  the  turkey,  but 
the  jerked  beef  may  suffice.  Eat  and  smoke,  and  then 
tell  us  your  adventures ; — -why  you  left  your  employer’s 
service,  and  how  you  came  to  be  dwelling  among  the 
Indians.” 

Peter,  having  a most  voracious  appetite,  as  he  had  a 
most  capacious  stomach,  without  further  parley  assailed 
the  viands  set  before  him. 

When  he  had  finished  his  meal  he  related  his  story  sub- 
stantially as  follows.  On  the  day  he  set  out  from  Mr. 
Schooley’s  house  to  visit  the  mill  he  was  seized  by  two  In- 
dians. They  threatened  to  tomahawk  him  if  he  made  any 
resistance  or  attempted  to  escape.  He  was  compelled  to 
dismount.  One  of  them  led  the  way  on  foot,  while  the 
other  followed  on  his  iron-gray  pony.  When  any  one  ap- 
proached they  plunged  into  the  inaccessible  recesses  of  the 
forest,  and  remained  silent  and  still  until  the  way  was 
clear,  and  then  ventured  forth  again,  avoiding  the  most 
frequented  paths.  Peter  strove  in  vain  to  ascertain  their 
purpose.  He  could  not  learn  to  what  nation  his  captors 
belonged,  nor  why  they  had  made  him  their  prisoner.  The 
only  name  he  could  understand — which  they  pronounced 
in  the  usual  way — was  Girty’s;  and  he  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  noted  leader  of  the  British  and  Indian 
borderers  might  have  discovered  some  great  merit  in 
him,  or  military  qualification,  which  had  superinduced  his 
arrest. 

When  encamped  for  the  night,  Peter  was  permitted  to 
recline  before  the  fire  in  dignified  silence,  while  the  In- 
dians prepared  his  food  and  filled  his  pipe,  and  manifested 
other  indications  of  a high  appreciation  of  his  importance. 

The  second  day  the  journey  was  prosecuted  with  less 
caution,  and  at  night  his  two  captors  signified  to  Peter 
that  it  was  time  for  him  to  “ be  Indian  too.”  So  they 
shaved  all  his  hair  off  but  the  scalp-lock,  painted  his  face 
red,  gave  him  a blanket,  leggins,  moccasins,  &c.  They 
laughed,  however,  at  the  manner  of  his  carriage  or  the 
singularity  of  his  attitudes,  and  seemed  to  make  several 
animated  speeches  on  the  subject.  They  then  addressed 
themselves  to  Peter,  who,  not  understanding  a word  they 


102 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


had  said,  made  no  response,  although  they  patiently 
awaited  one.  Then  they  gave  vent  to  explosions  of  laugh- 
ter, and  jabbered  more,  while  their  stoical  captive  snored 
before  the  fire. 

After  several  days  of  moderate  travel,  during  which  the 
Indians  seemed  to  be  mindful  of  the  comfort  of  their 
captive,  they  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  Lake  Cayuga.  Here 
they  were  met  by  many  people  of  the  Mohawk  and  Oneida 
tribes.  But  most  conspicuous  among  them  were  two  squaws, 
one  of  middle  age  and  the  other  quite  young,  and  both,  as 
Peter  declared,  very  beautiful,  with  the  exception  of  their 
pink  skins.  They  came  running  toward  him  with  their 
arms  extended ; and,  Peter  said,  he  also  opened  his.  But 
they  stopped  abruptly  when  within  a few  paces  of  him, 
and,  very  impolitely  turning  up  their  noses,  likewise  turned 
upon  their  heels  and  walked  away.  They  hung  down  their 
heads,  as  if  ashamed  of  something,  or  disappointed  in  the 
man  they  had  sent  for. 

A few  moments  after,  and  while  hundreds  were  standing 
round,  a chief  stepped  forward  and  made  a fierce  speech  to 
Peter’s  captors,  who  stood  in  silent  shame.  Then  such 
shouts  were  heard  as  never  assailed  his  ears  before.  They 
were  shouts  of  laughter,  loud  and  prolonged.  After  which 
the  chief,  who  had  scolded  his  captors,  approached  Peter, 
and  informed  him,  in  very  good  English,  that  the  stupid 
Minisinks  had  brought  them  the  wrong  man.  But  Peter’s 
joy  on  hearing  this  was  dashed  a little  when  told  that  he 
had  better  return  immediately,  or  the  enraged  Indians 
might  do  him  an  injury.  Peter’s  experience  among  the 
Indians,  however,  had  hitherto  been  so  agreeable  that  he 
could  not  be  apprehensive  of  a change  of  treatment,  and 
so  he  wandered  forward  into  the  village  in  quest  of  some- 
thing to  eat.  The  eldest  of  the  women  whom  he  had  seen 
sent  him  victuals,  wTith  a message  to  depart.  He  lingered, 
nevertheless,  while  occasional  bursts  of  merriment  still  as- 
sailed his  ears. 

Finally,  the  chief  seized  him  by  the  ear  and  led  him  out 
of  the  village,  pointing  to  where  the  pony  had  been  left, 
and  shoving  the  indignant  captive  in  that  direction.  But 
Peter’s  pony  had  been  taken,  and  in  its  place  was  a jackass 
of  similar  color,  but  whose  sides  had  been  variegated  by 
the  brush  of  a savage  artist;  and  the  sullen  animal  now 


SECOND  SERIES. 


103 


resembled  the  zebra, — a beast  be  bad  once  seen  at  a snow. 
They  told  Peter  his  pony  had  been  “ swapped”  for  the 
jackass,  and  that  he  must  mount  and  ride  away ; and, 
after  a moment’s  reflection,  and  concluding  it  might  be  a 
very  good  swap,  and  an  acquisition  in  the  Jenny  Jump 
settlement,  he  leaped  upon  the  beast.  Then  Popcorn,  as 
they  called  him,  was  cheered  by  the  multitude ; and  the 
ass,  either  guided  by  the  thong  or  frightened  by  the  deafen- 
ing sounds,  turned  his  head  in  a southeastern  direction 
and  trotted  off,  braying  so  loudly  that  all  other  noises  were 
utterly  obliterated. 

“ They  had  put  some  corn-cakes  and  dried  meat  in  my 
bag,”  said  Peter,  “and  swapped  for  my  corn  as  well  as 
my  pony.  But  the  consumed  jackass  kept  trying  to  bite 
me,  and  every  now  and  then  roared  like  a lion.  It  took 
me  two  whole  days  to  learn  how  to  manage  him.  I found 
out  I could  only  do  it  by  knocking  him  down  with  a club. 
Then  he  was  always  gentle  enough  till  next  morning.  But 
I lost  the  right  path,  and  travelled  in  several  wrong  ones. 
And  I can’t  tell  how  I got  here  at  all,  unless  the  jack  came 
of  his  own  accord  and  was  raised  by  the  whites.  And 
now,  gentlemen,”  continued  he,  “as  I understand  you  are 
going  to  come  back  soon  from  the  Indian  country,  I would 
be  glad  to  travel  with  you,  as  I know  I shall  never  find  the 
way  home  by  myself,  and  I want  to  whip  the  Indian  who 
painted  me.” 

“Not  find  the  way  home,”  said  Mr.  Jones,  “when  you 
are  on  the  bank  of  the  Delaware  River ! What  better  guide 
would  you  have  ?” 

“But  I can’t  keep  on  it,”  said  Peter;  “and  I don’t 
know  which  side  I’m  on.” 

“Not  know  which  side  you’re  on!  Can’t  you  see  which 
way  the  current  runs  ?” 

“Yes,  I can  see  that.” 

“Well,  when  you  stand  with  your  face  down-stream, 
don’t  you  know  which  hand  the  river  is  on  ? — your  right 
or  your  left?” 

“ I’m  terribly  bewildered ! I cannot  tell,  indeed,  sir.” 

“ Nonsense  ! Not  know  your  right  hand  from  your  left  ?” 

“But  I’m  left-handed,  sir!  Or,  rather,  I use  one  hand  as 
well  as  the  other,  and  never  could  tell  which  was  right  and 
which  was  wrong.” 


104 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“This  is  my  right  hand/’  said  Mr.  Jones,  “next  to  your 
left.  You  can  remember  that,  can’t  you?” 

“Yes,  if  you  are  always  at  hand  to  remind  me.” 

The  reverend  gentleman  could  restrain  his  merriment 
no  longer ; and  even  the  taciturn  Skippie  could  hardly  avoid 
giving  vent  to  loud  bursts  of  laughter. 

Charles  remained  silent  in  troubled  meditation.  It  was 
not  to  be  doubted  that  Peter  had  been  captured  by  the 
stupid  messengers  in  the  belief  that  it  was  himself.  They 
had  evidently  seen  him  ride  away  from  the  house  of  Mr. 
Schooley,  and,  being  strangers  to  the  person  of  the  one 
they  had  been  employed  to  seize,  the  mistake  had  been 
committed.  The  kind  treatment  on  the  way,  the  assembling 
of  the  tribe, — among  whom  he  had  many  acquaintances, — 
and  the  eagerness  of  the  two  women  to  meet  him,  who  must 
have  been  Gentle  Moonlight  and  Brown  Thrush,  rendered 
what  was  merely  a conjecture  as  Peter  proceeded  with  his 
story  a certainty  at  its  conclusion. 

Without  deciding  whether  Peter  should  accompany  them 
back  into  the  Indian  country  or  continue  his  solitary  jour- 
ney, preparations  were  made  for  sleeping,  by  enlarging  the 
shelter  and  widening  the  couch.  But,  before  the  eyes  of 
the  party  were  closed,  they  were  roused  by  the  braying  of 
the  ass  at  no  great  distance.  The  sounds  of  his  voice 
reverberated  through  the  great  valley  of  the  Delaware,  and 
were  re-echoed  by  every  ledge  of  cliffs.  The  wolves  and 
owls  were  silenced  by  the  stupendous  roar,  far  more  hideous 
than  any  uttered  by.themselves. 

“ He’s  in  a grass-swamp  about  a half  mile  up  the  bank,” 
said  Peter.  “ When  I saw  your  fire,  I didn’t  know  but 
you  might  be  savages,  and  so  I crawled  here  alone.  If 
you  hadn’t  taken  me  in,  I should  have  gone  to  bed  without 
my  supper,  as  my  provisions  gave  out  yesterday.  But  I 
made  a pin-hook  this  morning,  and  caught  two  trouts.  One 
of  ’em  w'as  a foot  long,  and  made  a good  breakfast.  I 
had  some  salt  left,  but  you  know* I couldn’t  eat  that  by 
itself.  And  I had  a knife  And  flint,  and  struck  a fire.” 

In  this  manner  Peter’s  tongue  ran  on  until  the  rest  of 
the  travellers  were  slumbering  soundly. 

The  next  morning  it  was  left  optional  with  Peter  whe- 
ther to  return  with  the  travellers  to  the  Indian  country  or 
to  pursue  his  solitary  way  across  the  Blue  Mountain  to  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


105 


white  settlements.  He  chose  the  former,  repeating  his 
determination  to  whip  the  two  Minisink  Indians  who  had 
captured  and  painted  him. 

Nothing  further  worthy  of  special  notice  occurred  until 
the  party  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  the  southern  extremity 
of  Lake  Cayuga.  They  were  approaching  the  village 
where  the  foster-mother  of  Charles  often  spent  the  summer, 
and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  which  she  held  a large  tract 
of  rich  land  inherited  from  her  mother. 

Charles  paused,  and,  placing  his  hands  over  his  mouth, 
uttered  the  loud  halloo  he  had  so  often  sounded  in  his 
youth  when  returning  from  distant  expeditions  with  the 
sons  of  the  chiefs  and  sachems.  Soon  there  was  a reply 
which  produced  an  animated  expression  of  pleasure  on  his 
handsome  features;  and,  as  they  drew  nearer  the  village, 
numbers  of  men  were  seen  running  toward  them  through 
the  beautiful  grove  in  which  the  town  was  situated. 

The  foremost  of  those  who  came  out  to  receive  the 
adopted  son  of  Gentle  Moonlight  was  Calvin,  the  young 
Delaware  chief  who  had  been  educated  with  Charles  at 
college.  They  embraced,  and  shed  tears  of  joy,  for  they 
had  always  been  very  intimate  friends. 

“They  had  concluded  you  would  not  come,”  said 
Calvin. 

“ And  then  they  sent  the  Minisinks  to  seize  me : did  they 
not?”  demanded  Charles. 

“I  think  so,”  said  the  other;  “but  they  do  not  confess 
it.  Ha  ! I see  you  have  Popcorn  with  you  !” 

“Yes,  I’m  back  agin,”  said  Peter ; “ and  when  I set  eyes 
on  those  nasty  Minisinks  there’ll  be  a fight.” 

“Let  me  advise  you  to  be  peaceable,”  said  the  other. 
“ You  may  get  into  danger.” 

Peter,  struck  by  his  manner,  remained  silent.  The 
llev.  Mr.  Jones  was  surrounded  and  welcomed  by  many 
of  his  Indian  acquaintances  as  they  approached  the  town. 

Very  soon  the  news  of  the  voluntary  return  of  the 
White  Eagle  spread  through  the  village;  and,  when  led  by 
his  friends  to  one  of  the  principal  wigwams,  he  was  clasped 
in  the  arms  of  his  foster-mother,  who  held  him  long  in 
silence,  while  the  Brown  Thrush,  smiling  and  weeping 
alternately,  sang  one  of  the  wild  songs  Charles  had  so  often 
listened  to  with  delight. 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


1O6 

“My  sister,  ’ said  Charles,  when  released  from  the  em 
brace  of  his  mother,  and  at  the  same  time  kissing  her  tear- 
ful cheek,  “ thou  hast  not  forgotten  the  words  of  thy 
brother  when  we  parted  many  moons  ago.  It  is  the  song 
you  promised  to  sing  when  he  returned.  And  didst  thou 
never  forget  thy  brother  ?” 

44  How  could  I ?”  said  she.  44  The  ripples  murmured  in 
the  bright  sunlight,  as  they  did  when  we  played  together  on 
the  margin  of  the  merry  brook,  and  the  soft  sound  was 
like  the  low  voice  of  my  brother.  The  bright  stars  danced 
in  gentle  glimmers,  as  they  had  done  when  we  wandered 
together  in  the  silent  night.  The  fawn  you  gave  me  fol- 
lowed my  lonely  steps  and  bleated  for  thee.  The  wild- 
roses  blossomed,  and  withered,  and  fell,  because  thou  wert 
away.  And,  oh,  my  brother,  the  Thrush  was  drooping 
her  head,  and  would  have  died,  if  thou  hadst  remained 
with  the  Antelope  ! . And  thou  dost  ask  if  I did  not  some- 
times forget  my  brother?  How  could  I?” 

44  Thou  couldst  not — nor  I thee,  my  sister ! In  my 
dreams  we  met  again  in  the  solitude  of  the  great  forest, 
where  the  birds  sang  in  safety  and  no  rude  foot  crushed 
the  violets.  We  sat  beneath  the  lofty  arch  of  the  giant 
trees,  and  the  sparkling  waters  murmured  their  low  melody 
at  our  feet.  Ha-wen-no-yu,  the  great  Father  of  all  good 
spirits,  looked  down  from  the  blue  sky  and  smiled  upon  us. 
And  he  heard  the  prayer  we  uttered : — that,  after  age  had 
crept  over  us  and  we  had  closed  our  eyes  upon  the  scenes 
of  this  world,  we  might  meet  again  in  the  great  hunting- 
grounds,  and  still  wander  together  as  loving  sister  and 
brother.’' 

And  what  did  he  speak?” 

44  He  seemed  to  smile  upon  my  request.” 

44  Then,  oh,  Kacha  Manito,  I pray  thee  bring  age  upon 
us  soon,  so  that  we  may  close  our  eyes  and  depart  for  that 
happy  land ! My  brother,  thy  sister  too  has  dreamed. 
$he  thought  thou  wrert  separated  from  her  by  a greaf 
chasm,  over  which  neither  of  us  could  pass.  And  when  you 
attempted  to  leap  over,  the  Antelope  ran  before  thee;  and 
when  1 strove  to  come  to  thee,  she  frowned  and  bade  me 
remain ; so  there  was  no  more  happiness  in  this  life,  and 
I prayed  the  good  Kacha  Manito  to  remove  us  both  to  that 
happy  land !” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


107 


“But  these  were  merely  dreams,  my  sister,  and  we 
should  not  be  troubled  by  them.  You  see  I can  come  to 
thee,  and  thou  canst  come  to  me.  The  Antelope  will  smile 
when  she  beholds  you,  and  beckon  you  over  the. chasm. 
And  thou  must  smile,  too.  The  Thrush  will  love  the  An- 
telope ; and  soon,  when  I return  to  my  father,  both  you 
and  my  mother  must  go  with  me.” 

“My  son,”  said  his  foster-mother,  after  a short  silence, 
(luring  which  the  musing  maiden  made  no  reply,  “ the  war- 
riors of  the  nations  are  assembling  at  the  Great  Island, 
between  the  broad  lakes,  (Ontario  and  Erie,)  where  the 
council-fire  is  burning.  From  the  shores  of  the  salt  water, 
where  the  sun  rises  from  the  blue  deep,  to  the  rolling 
prairies,  where  it  sets,  the  chiefs  are  coming.  They,  are 
digging  up  their  tomahawks  and  sharpening  their  arrows 
for  war.  It  was  for  this  reason  I sent  thee  word  to  come. 
I longed  to  behold  thee  once  more.  And  I desired  that 
thy  voice  might  be  heard  in  the  council.  Thou  art  my 
representative,  and  they  will  listen  to  thy  words.  I will 
go  with  thee,  and  the  sweet  Thrush  shall  sing  the  song  of 
peace  on  the  way ; and,  when-  we  see  the  smoke  of  the 
council-fire  ascending,  it  may  charm  the  ear  of  the  fierce 
Thayendanegea,  thy  brother  and  her  brother.  And  then, 
if  the  hatchet  be  buried  again,  we  will  go  with  thee  to  thy 
white-haired  father,  and  behold  the  beautiful  eyes  of  the 
Antelope.” 

“My  mother,”  said  Charles,  “your  words  sound  like 
music  in  my  ear,  and  I will  obey  thee.” 

Then,  while  a sumptuous  repast  was  in  preparation, 
Charles  regarded  his  Indian  mother  and  sister  in  silent 
admiration.  They  were  fairer  than  most  families  of  the 
Iroquois,  and,  unlike  the  majority  of  them,  had  oval  faces 
and  regular  features  of  delicacy  and  beauty. 

Bartholomew  Calvin,  the  young  Delaware  chief,  who 
sat  beside  Charles,  had  lingered  among  the  lakes  much 
longer  than  had  been  anticipated ; and  the  Thrush  was  the 
magnet  which  attracted  him.  Charles  could  not  avoid 
perceiving  it,  and  he  knew  not  whether  to  be  angry  or 
pleased  with  his  friend  for  presuming  to  love  his  sister. 
But  there  were  no  indications  of  his  passion  being  recipro- 
cated; and  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  either  Gentle 
Moonlight  or  the  passionate  Brandt  would  promote  the 


108 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


alliance,  unless  the  “ Tamed  Terrapin,”  as  they  called  him, 
or  the  degenerate  son  of  the  Algonquin s,  would  throw  away 
his  Christianity  or  his  civilization  and  take  up  his  abode 
among  them  in  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

NIAGARA — THE  CAPTIVES — POPCORN — THE  JOURNEY 
WESTWARD. 

The  next  day  they  set  out  for  the  Great  Council-Fire, 
between  the  broad  lakes,  where  the  earth  was  shaken  by  the 
roar  of  mighty  wraters,  and  where  Heno,  the  Spirit  of 
Thunder,  sat  in  his  majesty  and  hurled  his  bolts  at  the 
enemies  of  heaven. 

The  cavalcade  (all  now  being  mounted)  consisted  of  ' 
some  twenty  warriors,  with  their  sisters  and  mothers, — the 
latter  always  having  a voice  in  the  ratification  of  treaties ; 
and  it  was  understood  that,  as  usual,  the  pale-faces  would 
strive  to  negotiate  for  more  of  their  land.  They  had  been 
preceded  the  day  before  by  a very  large  delegation  of 
Senecas,  who  were,  with  the  exception  of  Red  Jacket, 
(whose  father  was  a Cayuga)  in  favour  of  war — war  against 
the  Colonies. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Jones  gladly  availed  himself  of  this 
opportunity  of  meeting  the  representatives  of  so  many 
tribes.  And  Peter  Shaver,  having  not  yet  succeeded  in 
finding  his  enemies,  vowed  his  purpose  to  look  for  them 
around  the  Great  Council-Fire,  and  to  chastise  them  wher- 
ever he  might  see  them.  The  young  Delaware  chief, 
melancholy  and  sighing,  followed  in  silence. 

As  Peter  endeavoured  to  urge  his  long-eared  charger 
forward,  there  was  a very  boisterous  explosion  of  laughter. 
Some  of  the  boys  had  inserted  pepper  under  the  tongue  of 
the  jackass,  and  as  he  trotted  along  he  kept  up  for  some 
distance  an  incessant  braying ; and  while  the  boys  yelled, 
and  the  men  uttered  every  conceivable  sound  and  some 
that  were  certainly  inconceivable,  poor  Peter  could  only 
gesticulate  with  his  clenched  fists  and  threaten  vengeance. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


109 


This  amused  his  tormentors  the  more,  even  while  they  ad- 
mitted “ Popcorn, ” as  they  called  him,  was  a brave  man; 
and  he  was  no  coward,  as  the  sequel  will  show. 

Our  party  were  welcomed  to  the  Great  Council  by 
Brandt  himself;  and  a vast  number  of  Charles’s  old  play 
mates,  now  chiefs  and  warriors,  crowded  round  him  and 
renewed  their  professions  of  friendship  and  attachment. 

But  Charles  perceived  with  regret  the  greater  number 
of  white  men  mingling  with  the  Indians  were  British 
agents.  Sir  John  Johnston,  John  Butler  and  his  son 
Walter,  Girty,  and  McKee,  as  well  as  the  implacable  Queen 
Esther,  were  there. 

The  chiefs  were  the  first  to  speak.  White  Eyes,  an 
aged  chief  of  the  Western  Delawares,  had  the  precedence, 
and  he  was  in  favour  of  peace  and  alliance  with  the  Ame- 
ricans ; but  Captain  Pipe,  another  chief  of  the  same  band, 
declared  for  the  British. 

The  Caugnawagas  all  spoke  in  favour  of  the  British; 
while,  the  only  Cherokee  who  spoke  at  all  took  the  oppo- 
site side.  The  Shawnees  were  inclined  to  join  the  Colonies, 
but  could  never  do  so,  so  long  as  the  death  of  Cornstalk,  a 
great  chief,  and  his  son,  Elenipsico,  remained  unavenged. 
They  had  been  killed  in  a Western  fort  because  the  whites 
believed  some  of  the  Shawnees  had  murdered  a Mr.  Gil- 
more. Mr.  Gilmore  had  been  shot  and  scalped  by  Elliot, 
an  English  agent,  for  the  purpose  of  producing  such  a 
result. 

The  chiefs  of  the  Five  Nations  permitted  the  chiefs  of 
jther  tribes  to  be  heard  first,  because  they  had  come  a 
great  distance  to  meet  them  there;  and  when  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  various  Western  tribes  had  uttered  their 
sentiments,  Thayendanegea  rose  and  spoke  in  favour  of 
war — war  against  the  Americans.  He  said,  u States  are 
ungrateful, ^ like  men.  The  first  pale-faces  that  landed  on 
our  soil  were  poor,  and  we  pitied  them.  We  gave  them 
land,  and  they  grew  rich.  Then  they  despised  us,  and 
sought  our  destruction.  So  with  the  Colonies.  When  they 
were  weak,  and  the  people  few  in  number,  we  were  termed 
the  lords  of  this  broad  continent,  and  their  humble  peti- 
tions were  addressed  to  us.  Now  they  consider  themselves 
the  lords,  and  would  drive  us  from  oijr  inheritance.  Let 
us  conquer  them  or  die.  Death  in  battle  is  preferable  to 

10 


no 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


degradation  in  life.  Such  is  my  judgment.  But  we  will 
have  the  warriors  of  our  great  father  over  the  broad  water 
to  aid  us,  and  we  shall  be  victorious.  If  we  do  not  embrace 
this  opportunity,  we  shall  never  have  another.  If  we  re- 
main neutral,  who  will  assist  when  the  victor  in  the  present 
contest  shall  assail  us  ? No  matter  which  party  is  beaten, 
the  other  will  some  day  drive  us  from  our  fathers’  graves. 
Rather  let  us  be  buried  in  them !” 

Charles  was  then  permitted  by  the  aged  chiefs,  as  a 
special  act  of  courtesy,  to  follow  his  foster-brother.  He 
said  he  could  not  agree  with  his  brother.  The  Americans 
were  not  to  be  dreaded  so  much  as  the  British.  The  op- 
pression came  from  the  government  beyond  the  ocean ; 
and,  if  they  oppressed  their  own  people,  how  could  it  be 
supposed  they  would  spare  the  Indians?  He  was  in  favour 
of  a strict  neutrality,  unless  the  Indians  should  be  unani- 
mously inclined  to  join  the  Colonies — a thing  he  did  .not 
look  for. 

Sir  John  Johnston  ridiculed  the  idea  of  permitting  boys 
to  speak  in  council,  but  admitted  that  the  mother  of 
Charles  had  a right  to  send  him  there.  He  controverted 
what  had  been  said  with  indignant  warmth. 

Simon  Girty  next  spoke  in  behalf  of  the  royal  cause. 
He  made  a very  great  impression  by  means  of  ingenious- 
falsehood.  Professing  to  be  quite  conversant  with  the 
purposes  of  the  Americans,  he  announced  that  they  in- 
tended to  exterminate  the  Indians  as  the  shortest  way  to 
possess  their  lands.  And  this  declaration  was  substantiated 
by  McKee  and  Elliot,  all  renegade  tories. 

Red  Jacket  replied  to  Girty,  and  said  he  derived  no 
right  from  his  mother  to  speak  in  the  council,  and  espe- 
cially to  utter  lies.  He  was  in  favour  of  neutrality.  If 
they  participated  in  the  war  at  all,  many  of  their  bre- 
thren would  fall.  That  was  inevitable.  And  they  would 
be  weakened.  If  they  kept  aloof,  the  victor,  whether 
America  or  England,  would  be  weakened  from  losses  and 
weary  from  suffering,  while  the  Indians  would  be  strong 
and  nfore  numerous  than  ever.  That  was  their  best 
security. 

Young  Bald  Eagle,  of  the  Pottawatomies,  called  Red 
Jacket  a coward, — all  words  and  no  blows. 

A Wyandot  chief  did  the  same. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


Ill 


A Mingo  chief  sustained  the  last  two  speakers,  and 
declared  for  war  against  the  Americans. 

A Shawnee  chief  said  his  nation  was  divided,  one- 
half  agreeing  with  the  Western  Delawares  to  remain 
neutral. 

The  Oneidas,  influenced  by  the  Rev.  Samuel  Kirkland, 
who  was  present,  announced  their  determination  to  remain 
at  peace  with  the  Americans. 

The  British  officers  then  proposed  to  expel  the  mis- 
sionaries from  the  council,  and  an  intense  excitement  pre- 
vailed. Many  tomahawks,  which  had  been  concealed,  were 
brandished,  and  the  utmost  efforts  of  the  sachems  and 
chiefs  were  required  to  prevent  the  white  men  from  dese- 
crating the  council-house  with  blood.  They  arrived  at  no 
other  definite  result  than  an  agreement  of  those  favourable 
to  the  British  to  meet  again  at  Oswego. 

Then  a general  dispersion  took  place,  and  our  party  pre- 
pared to  return  to  the  village  they  had  set  out  from,  near 
the  head-waters  of  the  Susquehanna. 

The  friendly  Shawnees,  Delawares,  Cherokees,  and  Onei- 
das, were  encamped  on  the  same  ground ; while  the  tribes 
committed  to  the  British  cause  kept  aloof,  and  regarded 
them  with  looks  of  anger  and  aversion.  The  two  mis- 
sionaries, and  the  foster-mother  and  sister  of  Charles,  as 
well  as  Charles  himself  and  the  redoubtable  44  Popcorn,’ ’ 
were  in  the  midst  of  the  former. 

In  the  evening  Brandt  came  alone  to  the"  tent  of  his 
aunt,  and  sat  down  in  gloomy  silence  between  Charles  and 
his  sister. 

44  Oh,  my  brother,”  said  his  sister,  44  do  not  go  with 
them  to  Oswego.  Come  with  us  to  the  peaceful  vale  where 
the  south  winds  are  sighing  sweetly  through  the  quivering 
leaves.” 

44  No,  sister,”  said  he,  sadly.  44  The  war-whoop  is  heard 
on  the  shores  of  the  northern  lake.  The  war-paths  are 
open.  The  tomahawks  have  been  dug  up.  Thy  red  bro- 
ther must  lead  the  van  of  the  battle.  He  must  not  kill  his 
white  brother.” 

44  No!”  cried  the  Thrush.  44  He  would  not  do  it  if  he 
met  him  in  battle!” 

44  But  Thayendanegea’s  people  might  kill  him.  The 
White  Eagle  must  remain  with  his  brother.” 


112 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ The  White  Eagle  is  free,”  said  Charles,  “and  may  soar 
whithersoever  he  chooses.” 

“No!”  said  Brandt. 

“What  does  my  brother  mean?” 

“ The  White  Eagle  must  not  be  pierced  by  the  arrows 
of  his  red  brother.  He  must  not,  then,  stand  before  the 
bow.  He  must  remain  with  his  sister,  among  the  wTomen, 
if  he  will  not  fight  the  American  pale-faces.  Then  the 
White  Eagle  must  have  some  other  name.  He  will  no 
longer  be  a chief.  They  will  call  him  the  Frightened 
Hare!” 

“ Never!”  said  Charles.  “ I will  lead  my  white  people 
against  the  British.  Let  my  red  brother  keep  from  before 
our  rifles !” 

“ The  Thrush  will  go  with  the  White  Eagle,”  said  the 
maiden,  “ and  sing  him  to  sleep,  so  that  he  shall  not  harm 
his  red  brother.” 

“ The  Brown  Thrush  must  go  wTith  Thayendanegea,”  said 
the  chief. 

“ No !”  said  his  aunt,  speaking  for  the  first  time, 
although  she  had  been  an  attentive  listener.  “My  sister’s 
daughter  now  has  no  mother  but  me.  My  sister  is  dead. 
My  sister’s  son,  listen  to  my  command.  The  Thrush  shall 
not  go  with  you.” 

“ My  mother’s  sister,  my  ears  are  open.  What  you 
have  said  has  entered  them,  and  you  must  be  obeyed.” 

“ My  sister’s  son,”  she  continued,  with  deliberation,  “ the 
Brown  Thrush  shall  go  with  the  White  Eagle.” 

“ You  command  it.  It  must  be  so.  But  whither  will 
they  go?  You  cannot  command  the  three  thousand  war- 
riors whose  chiefs  have  decided  that  my  white  brother 
shall  not  return  to  the  pale-faces  until  the  war  is  ended.” 

“False,  treacherous,  perfidious  Thayendanegea!”  said 
Charles.  “And  this  is  the  cowardly  work  of  the  one  I 
have  loved  and  trusted!  No  more  my  brother!  Hence- 
forth we  are  foes !” 

“ My  brother,  do  not  make  my  blood  boil  over.  Another 
had  died  ere  the  speech  were  finished.  Thayendanegea  did 
nothing.  He  knew  it  not  until  the  chiefs  had  decided. 
He  did  not  approve  it,  but  he  could  not  oppose  it.  He 
loves  his  brother  still.  He  waits  to  hear  his  brother’s 
next  words.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


113 


“Forgive  me,  my  brother!”  said  Charles,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes.  “I  ask  my  brother’s  pardon.” 

“ It  was  the  Malcha  Manito,  and  not  my  brother.  But 
what  can  my  brother  do?  The  warriors  surrounding  him, 
who  will  not  declare  war  against  his  white  brothers,  will 
not  oppose  the  decree  of  the  chiefs.  They  are  net  ready 
to  fight  their  red  brothers.” 

“ I will  escape.  You  know  the  White  Eagle  can  soar 
above  his  enemies.” 

“ But  whither  will  he  direct  his  flight?  He  will  not  find 
the  Antelope  in  the  peaceful  vale.” 

“ My  brother  speaks  no  fables,”  said  Charles,  pale,  and 
deeply  moved. 

“ No.  Thayendanegea  cannot  say  what  is  not  true. 
His  brother’s  white  sister  has  been,  ere  this,  conveyed 
away.  It  was  the  decree  of  the  chiefs,  solicited  by  the 
Queen  of  the  Senecas;  but  she  cannot  be  injured.  You 
are  unhappy?” 

64  Oh,”  cried  the  Indian  maiden,  “let  her  be  brought 
hither,  or  go  where  we  go,  and  I will  kiss  away  her  tears 
and  sing  her  to  sleep!” 

“Sister’s  son,”  said  the  aunt,  “let  it  be  so.” 

“ It  will  be  so,”  he  replied.  “ Such  is  the  purpose  of 
the  one  who  decided  every  thing,  and  whose  decision  was 
merely  ratified  by  the  chiefs.” 

“And  that  was  old  Esther,”  said  Charles. 

“Queen  Esther,”  said  Brandt. 

“My  brother,”  said  the  Delaware  chief,  Calvin,  who  had 
hitherto  remained  a silent  listener,  addressing  Charles,  “ I 
will  remain  with  you,  or  we  will  go  together,  whithersoever 
the  great  Ha-wen-no-yu,  or  our  Holy  Father,  may  direct 
oar  steps.” 

“Farewell!”  said  Brandt,  rising.  “The  maple-leaf  is 
red.  It  has  been  painted  by  the  first  frosts.  Ere  it  falls 
we  may  meet  again.  Our  lodges  must  be  replenished  with 
meat,  and  our  women  must  gather  the  corn.  And  before 
the  war-trail  winds  toward  the  sea  we  may  hunt  the  buffalo 
in  the  West.” 

And  he  was  gone  before  his  mother’s  sister  could  inter- 
rogate him  further.  And  not  many  minutes  afterward  the 
approach  of  Queen  Esther  was  announced  by  fife  and 
drum,  which  had  been  presented  her  by  the  British. 

10* 


114 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


Queen  Esther,  or  Catharine  Montour,  decked  in  guady 
habiliments,  entered,  and  sat  in  their  midst,  upon  a large 
scarlet  robe  spread  for  her  by  one  of  the  attendants. 

This  woman — who  had  acquired  an  almost  despotic  influ- 
ence over  the  Senecas,  the  most  powerful  of  the  Six  Na- 
tions, by  her  incantations  and  superior  intellect — was  her 
self  a white  woman,  or  the  daughter  of  the  half-Indian 
wife  of  one  of  the  noble  French  governors  of  Canada — 
Frontenac,  it  has  been  said.  She  had  been  stolen  by  the 
Indians  when  an  infant,  and  raised  among  them.  She 
married  a chief,  and  never  could  be  induced  to  return  to 
her  white  kindred. 

She  was  now  in  the  eightieth  year  of  her  age,  and  her 
face  was  but  a concentration  of  wrinkles,  although  she  had 
once  been  handsome  and  accomplished. 

“Ha,  Gentle  Moonlight,”  said  she,  with  a sardonic 
smile,  “ there  is  a cloud  upon  thy  face ! Oh,  yes  ! I did 
it;  it  was  me.  War,  war  to  the  hilt!  My  work.  Blood 
must  flow.  Brandt  shall  be  the  Grand  Sachem  at  Oswego. 
He  shall  be  king ; but  he  shall  be  the  head-warrior,  too. 
And  why  don’t  you  command  this  young  Eagle  to  marry 
the  poor  Thrush?  and  then  we  would  make  him  a great 
prince.  Oh  that  he  was  a Seneca ! I would  order  him 
to  marry;  and  no  one  disobeys  me.  What!  dost  frown 
at  me?  Tut,  boy!  But  you  won’t  escape.  I have  too 
wise  a head  for  that.  You  will  not  leave  your  darling 
Antelope?  Oh,  no ! Well,  then,  you  shan’t.  She  will 
come  to  you.  That  was  Queen  Esther’s  wit ! Adieu ! 
Go  peaceably  and  submissively  to  the  West,  on  the  Scioto, 
or  cross  over  to  the  4 Dark  and  Bloody  Ground,’  as  some 
call  it, — but  it  is  neutral  now, — and  hunt  the  deer  and 
buffalc  But  do  not  destroy  the  Antelope!” 

Without  permitting  any  one  to  reply,  she  arose  and  de- 
parted, preceded  by  her  martial  music. 

Shortly  afterward,  Charles  was  roused  from  his  abstrac- 
tion by  the  quiet  entrance  of  Skippie,  who  stood  before 
him  and  said — 

44  Going !” 

44  Going,  Skippie  t” 

44  I.” 

44 1 understand.  Tell  my  father ” 

44  All.  Know  all.” 


POrCOHN'S  FIGHT  WITH  THE  INDIAN. — P .115. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


11£ 


And  before  Charles  could  utter  another  word  Skippie 
was  gone. 

Shortly  after  this,  Charles  was  again  startled  by  a tre- 
mendous uproar  among  the  boys.  It  appeared  that,  in  imi- 
tation of  their  fathers,  they  had  been  holding  a council. 
They  had  their  interpreter,  who  rendered  every  thing  in 
plain  English  to  Peter  Shaver,  who  was  present.  Very 
soon  Peter  was  informed  that  he  had  been  elected  king. 
And,  upon  desiring  to  know  wdiere  his  subjects  were  to 
be  found,  they  informed  him  he  should  be  ruler  over  all 
the  Capitanasses.  There  had  been  a tribe  of  that  name 
in  Jersey,  although  Peter  was  not  aware  of  it.  Peter, 
therefore,  supposing  he  had  been  made  the  laughing-stock 
of  the  boys,  being  called  King  of  the  Capitanasses  be- 
cause he  rode  an  ass,  indignantly  withdrew.  They  fol- 
lowed, whooping  and  crying,  u Popcorn,  King  of  the 
Capitanasses!”  The  men  laughed  heartily  as  Peter  strode 
over  the  ground  toward  the  camp  of  Gentle  .Moonlight. 
And,  as  he  approached,  he  espied  the  Minisink  Indian  who 
had  put  the  dark  stains  on  his  face,  and  which  no  process 
of  washing  and  rubbing  he  could  employ  had  yet  removed. 
Finding  the  Indian  merry  at  his  expense,  he  threw  aside 
his  blanket  and  charged  upon  him  writh  his  fists.  Now, 
although  Peter  was  short  and  fat,  and  rather  short-winded, 
he  was  somewhat  scientific  in  the  use  of  his  fists.  A ring 
was  instantly  formed  around  the  combatants,  with  shouts 
and  cries  of  merriment.  The  Minisink  strove  in  vain  to 
get  the  “ Indian  hug”  on  Peter.  Peter  planted  his  blows 
with  such  precision  and  rapidity  that  his  adversary  was 
forced  back,  and,  as  he  retreated,  dodging  from  one  side  to 
another,  Peter  was  applauded  by  the  spectators.  Finally, 
Peter  succeeded  in  planting  a blow  on  the  stomach  of  the 
Indian,  which  laid  him  on  the  ground,  and  then  the  victor 
would  have  been  content  to  drop  the  quarrel.  Not  so  the 
Indian.  Incensed  and  suffering,  he  drew  his  knife  and 
made  several  desperate  lunges,  which  were  warded  off  with 
difficulty.  The  spectators  interfered,  and  disarmed  the 
Indian,  who  threatened  to  be  revenged  on  some  future  occa- 
sion, while  the  boys  conducted  their  new  chief  and  cham- 
pion in  triumph  to  his  tent. 

But  the  bruised  Minisink  soon  found  sympathizers  ; and 
as  the  British  agents,  under  the  guise  of  peddlers,  had  dis- 


116 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


tributed  no  small  quantity  of  rum  among  the  men,  there 
soon  arose  a cry  for  the  scalps  of  the  American  pale-faces. 
When  this  reached  the  ears  of  the  foster-mother  of  Charles, 
she  had  her  tent  removed  to  a place  of  greater  security, 
where  it  was  surrounded  and  guarded  by  a number  of  De- 
laware warriors ; and  early  in  the  morning  our  party  set 
out,  in  a southern  direction,  toward  the  head-waters  of  the 
Alleghany. 

Gentle  Moonlight,  Brown  Thrush,  Charles,  the  young 
Delaware  chief,  the  Rev.  David  Jones,  and  Peter,  formed 
the  party.  Although  a prisoner,  Charles  was  permitted  to 
retain  his  arms,  having  given  his  word  that  he  would  not 
attempt  an  escape  for  the  space  of  seven  days.  This  he 
did  the  more  readily,  as  he  knew  it  would  require  that 
length  of  time  to  convey  Julia  to  the  place  in  the  West 
designated  by  Queen  Esther,  and  where  he  hoped  to  be 
permitted  to  see  her. 

Although  our  party  were  granted  the  privilege  of  encamp- 
ing as  often  as  they  pleased  on  the  route,  to  make  long  or 
short  marches  as  might  suit  the  convenience  of  the  sister 
of  the  mother  of  Brandt,  yet  it  was  soon  apparent  that 
they  were  followed  and  observed  by  seven  of  the  guards  of 
Queen  Esther,  whose  duty  it  was  to  prevent  any  communi- 
cation with  the  settlements  of  the  white  people.  But  they 
were  also  preceded  by  seven  Oneida  warriors  friendly  to 
the  American  cause.  These  warriors  shot  an  abundance 
of  game,  as  they  proceeded,  for  the  use  of  the  travellers. 

The  weather  was  fine,  and  the  journey,  although  easy  and 
pleasant,  (for  the  foster-mother  of  Charles  was  rich,  and 
had  been  lavish  in  expenditure  when  providing  for  the  com- 
fort of  her  children,)  was  devoid  of  special  incident  until 
the  party  crossed  the  dividing-line  between  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania.  Here  they  rested  while  canoes  were  sought 
in  which  to  descend  the  Alleghany  River ; and  here  they 
were  informed  by  a runner  of  the  approach  of  Julia, 
guarded  by  two  Mingo  chiefs,  who  could  speak  the  English 
language,  and  who  had  been  charged,  as  the  runner  assured 
Charles,  to  provide  for  all  her  wants,  and  to  prevent  her 
from  suffering  the  slightest  bodily  inconvenience  on  the 
iourney.  Runners  likewise  came  from  Oswego,  confirming 
the  rumour  that  Brandt  had  been  made  grand-sachem  of  the 
Five  Nations.  It  was  also  understood  that  the  Indians 


SECOND  SERIES. 


317 


would  not  go  upon  the  war-path  until  the  next  spring  ; and 
in  the  mean  time  they  were  to  disperse  in  hunting-parties, 
and  secure  a large  supply  of  buffalo-meat. 

The  camp  of  the  travellers,  or  captives,  (for  it  appeared 
they  were  still  subject  to  the  direction  of  Queen  Esther,) 
was  situated  in  one  of  the  wildest,  and  at  the  same  time  one 
of  the  most  lovely  and  romantic,  spots  in  nature.  It  was 
on  a small  delta  of  the  Alleghany.  The  bright  water 
flowed  at  their  feet  on  the  south,  and  upon  its  surface  the 
golden  beams  of  the  sun  danced  in  ever-varying  splendour. 
Behind,  they  were  defended  from  the  chilling  winds  of  the 
north  by  a high  mountain,  whose  sides  were  clothed  with 
evergreens. 

The  camp  was  sheltered  from  the  dews  and  the  noon- 
day sun  by  a grove  of  sugar-maples,  upon  whose  boughs, 
ever  and  anon,  rested  myriads  of  wild-pigeons,  pausing  in 
their  migratory  flight.  Charles  and  Bartholomew  Calvin 
explored  the  mountains  and  streams  in  the  vicinity,  and 
admired  the  bold  features  of  the  country.  And  it  was 
during  one  of  these  excursions  with  gun  and  angling-rod, 
that  Calvin  confessed — what  Charles  had  already  suspected 
— his  passion  for  the  sister  of  Brandt ; and  at  the  same  time 
expressed  the  sad  conviction — which  was  evident  to  all — 
that  the  Thrush  was  deeply,  blindly  in  love  with  the  Eagle. 
Charles  said  every  thing  in  his  power  to  encourage  and  com- 
fort his  friend,  assuring  him  that,  whatever  might  be  his 
affection  for  his  foster-sister,  or  her  attachment  to  him, 
they  could  never  be  united. 

And  the  poor  Thrush  and  her  aunt  devoted  themselves 
to  the  generous  task  of  providing  for  the  comfort  of  the 
captive  maiden,  whose  arrival  was  now  daily  looked  for. 
She  was  the  Antelope,  loved  by  Charles,  whom  they  loved, 
and  therefore  they  must  love  her  too.  The  jealousy  and 
hatred  that  might  have  poisoned  more  civilized  women 
under  similar  circumstances  found  no  place  in  their  bo- 
soms. It  is  true,  according  to  their  code  of  morals,  a chief 
might  have  more  than  one  wife ; but  they  were  not  ignorant 
that  Charles,  during  the  process  of  his  education,  had 
adopted  the  Christian  faith,  and  would  be  governed  by  the 
laws  of  the  race  from  which  he  was  descended.  And,  like- 
wise, Mr.  Jones  had  made  some  progress  in  their  own  con- 
version to  Christianity.  Nevertheless,  the  devoted  Thrush 


113 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


sang  joyously  as  she  prepared  soft  furs  and  fashioned  robes 
of  fine  cloth  and  hoods  and  moccasins  for  the  Antelope. 

It  was  while  thus  engaged  in  the  deep  solitude  of  the 
silent  grove  that  Charles  once  encountered  her.  He  had 
left  Calvin  and  Peter  fishing  up  the  stream,  near  the  camp 
of  the  seven  guards  of  Queen  Esther. 

“My  sister, ” said  he,  sitting  down  at  her  side  on  the 
bleached  trunk  of  a fallen  tree,  then  checkered  by  the 
straggling  rays  of  the  morning  sun,  “you  will  be  kind  to 
your  white  sister,  will  you  not?” 

“ My  brother  loves  his  white  sister.  I love  my  brother.” 
“ But  will  the  Thrush  always  love  the  Antelope  when 
she  sees  her  brother  gather  the  sweetest  flowers  for  her 
nosegays  ?” 

“Why  not?  Cannot  my  brother  love  us  both?  And 
why  should  we  not  love  one  another?” 

“ I fear,  my  poor  sister,  that  you  are  incapable  of  com- 
prehending me.” 

“ Oh,  never  fear.  My  brother  Thayendanegea  used  to 
say  the  White  Eagle  would  forget  his  wild  Thrush  and 
remain  away.  But  it  was  not  so.  I did  not  believe  it. 
And  did  he  not  return  ? He  used  to  tell  her,  also,  that  her 
white  brother  would  love  his  white  Antelope  and  forsake 
the  Thrush.  I did  not  believe  that  either.  He  was  mis- 
taken in  the  one,  and  will  be  in  the  other.” 

“But,  my  sister,  suppose  it  had  been  as  Brandt  said?” 

“ The  Thrush  would  still  have  sung.  She  would  never 
have  blamed  and  hated  the  Eagle.  But  it  would  have  been 
a mournful  song, — her  own  death-song.  She  would  have 
folded  her  wings  and  died.” 

“ Do  you  not  know,  my  sister,  that  among  the  whites 
it  is  unlawful  for  a man  to  love  two  maidens  at  the  same 
time  ?” 

“ Oh,  yes  ! Mr.  Jones  has  told  me.  That  is  among  courts 
and  cities,  and  where  the  country  is  torn  by  the  iron 
ploughs.  I do  not  doubt  it.  But  we  will  not  go  thither. 
The  Antelope  will  remain  with  us  in  the  warm  sunlight, 
near  the  edge  of  the  bright,  leaping  waters  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountain.  She  will  see  the  antlered  buck  followed  by 
two  does,  and  the  birds  of  fairest  plumage  attended  by  two 
mates.  She  will  forget  the  white  people  and  their  crueJ 
customs.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


119 


Charles  despaired  of  convincing  her  of  the  superiority 
of  the  customs  of  the  white  people;  and, after  a protracted 
silence  on  his  part,  while  the  Indian  maiden  resumed  her 
song  and  plied  her  delicate  fingers  in  the  fabrication  of  an 
exquisitely-ornamented  pair  of  moccasins  for  Julia,  he  re- 
sumed:— 

“ But,  my  sister,  hast  thou  not  seen  that  thy  brother’s 
friend,  the  young  Delaware  chief,  was  fascinated  by  the 
song  of  the  Thrush?” 

6 He  would  not  wrong  his  friend.  He  would  rather 
perish.” 

“ I know  it.  But  I would  not  have  him  die.  I love  him 
too.  We  were  brothers  at  the  college.” 

“ And  did  he  not  hear  thee  speak  of  me  ? Did  he  not 
know  thy  sister  loved  thee  ? Let  him  return  to  his  people 
in  the  East,  or  wed  among  the  Delawares  of  the  West.  The 
Brown  Thrush  knows  her  mate  !” 

“ My  sister,”  continued  Charles,  “ I say  these  things  to 
thee  that  thou  mayest  be  prepared  for  the  events  of  the 
future.  Once  I loved  thee  only,  and  I love  thee  yet.  But 
I could  not  avoid  loving  the  Antelope  of  my  own  race, 
when  she  was  so  kind  to  me.  What  thy  brother  says  is 
the  truth.  A Christian  is  not  allowed  to  have  two  wives. 
And  the  Antelope  is  a Christian.  Her  husband  must  have 
but  one  wife !” 

“ Be  it  so  !”  said  the  maiden,  lifting  her  confiding  eyes 
to  those  of  the  young  man.  u We  will  not  marry.  We 
will  build  no  nests.  The  Antelope  and  the  Thrush  will 
only  love  and  charm  the  White  Eagle.  And  when  we  go 
to  the  great  hunting-grounds  together,  Ha-wen-no-yu  may 
not  have  such  bad  laws  as  the  white  men.” 

Charles,  half  amused  and  half  vexed  at  the  argument 
and  devotion  of  the  child  of  nature,  ceased  the  discussion. 
He  was  startled,  however,  soon  after,  by  the  arrival  of 
Peter  Shaver,  bearing  in  his  arms  a very  young  bear-cub, 
which  kept  up  a piteous  crying  for  its  dam. 

The  Indian  maiden  leaped  up  in  terror,  and  asked  if  the 
dam  had  been  killed ; but  Peter,  not  understanding  her 
language,  only  offered  her  the  “ pretty  pet,”  as  he  called 
it.  Then,  in  reply  to  the  same  question  from  Charles,  he 
said  he  had  not  seen  the  dam. 

The  Indian  girl,  upon  learning  that  the  dam  had  not 


120 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


been  destroyed,  gathered  up  her  work  and  fled  toward  the 
camp,  not  doubting  the  men  would  soon  have  to  use  their 
rifles. 

“ Yonder  she  comes  now  !”  said  Peter,  as  he  beheld  the 
infuriated  animal  plunging  down  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
attracted  by  the  cries  of  her  offspring. 

“Stop  the  cub’s  cries,  Peter,”  said  Charles,  “or  else 
you  may  feel  the  weight  of  the  mother’s  claws  before  we 
can  kill  her.” 

“It  wont  stop!”  said  Peter.  “And  if  I shoot  it,  its 
mamma  may  catch  me  with  an  empty  gun  ! I’ll  let  it  go  !” 
he  continued,  and  instantly  threw  it  down.  But,  instead 
of  running  away,  the  cub  followed  Peter  as  he  retreated 
behind  the  fallen  trunk.  “ Oh,  what  shall  I do  ?”  cried 
he,  now  stricken  with  terror;  for  the  creature  would  not 
leave  him,  and  the  dam  was  coming  with  fearful  strides. 

“ Climb  a tree,”  said  Charles,  amused  at  the  efforts  of 
Peter  to  shake  off  the  cub,  “or  else  kill  it.” 

“Oh!”  cried  Peter,  “he’s  biting  my  hand ! Help  me, 
Mr.  Cameron !”  And  as  the  poor  man  glared  fearfully  at 
the  old  bear,  nowT  within  fifty  paces  of  him,  his  knees  trem- 
bled so  violently  he  was  unable  to  climb  the  tree  he  ran  to. 
But  the  Delaware  youth,  who  had  followed  to  see  the  re- 
sult of  the  experiment,  and  Charles,  "who  did  not  relish  a 
closer  proximity  to  the  old  bear,  fired  their  rifles  nearly  at 
the  same  moment,  from  opposite  sides,  and  both  with  effect. 
Nevertheless,  she  was  not  killed,  though  mortally  wounded, 
and  rolled  and  ran  together  to  the  foot  of  the  tree  behind 
which  Peter  Shaver  was  endeavouring  to  conceal  himself ; 
and  there  she  fell,  but  not  before  striking  one  blow  at 
Peter,  which  merely  caught  the  skirt  of  his  buckskin  coat 
as  he  fled  round  the  trunk.  He  was  held  fast,  however, 
though  the  bear  was  dead,  her  teeth  being  desperately 
sunk  in  a root  of  the  tree,  upon  which  Peter’s  cap  had 
fallen.  Peter  continued  to  make  violent  struggles  to  extri- 
cate himself,  and  still  called  lustily  for  help. 

“ Why  don’t  you  turn  and  fight,  Peter?”  asked  Charles, 
advancing  carelessly. 

“ Shoot,  Popcorn  !”  said  Calvin. 

“ Oh  ! he’ll  tear  me  all  to  pieces  ! I’ve  lost  my  gun  !” 
cried  Peter,  who  had  dropped  his  rifle  when  the  bear  sprang 
toward  him. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


121 


“ Take  your  tomahawk  or  knife,”  continued  Charles, 
seeing  the  bear  was  quite  dead.  One  arm  clasped  her  cub, 
while  the  other  nailed  Peter’s  hunting-shirt  to  the  tree. 

“ I can’t ! I tremble  so  !”  said  Peter;  44 kill  him,  if  you 
please  !” 

“ No,”  said  Charles ; “ you  must  distinguish  yourself  be- 
fore you  can  become  a great  Indian.  If  we  were  to  dis- 
patch the  bear,  the  Indians  would  call  you  a woman.” 

“Dad  burn  the  Indians  and  the  women,”  cried  Peter, 
“ when  a savage  bear  has  hold  of  my  shirt-tail ! Get  out 
of  the  way,  if  you  won’t  help  me !”  and,  extricating  him- 
self by  a violent  effort,  he  sank  his  tomahawk  in  Bruin’s 
head. 

“ That  finished  her  !”  said  Calvin. 

“You  have  conquered,”  said  Charles. 

“You  dealt  such  a deadly  blow,”  continued  Calvin, 
“that  she  never  moved  afterward.” 

Just  then  Peter’s  ass,  which  wTas  browsing  near,  began 
to  bray. 

“Your  steed,  even,  is  cheering  you,  Peter.  Well  done, 
great  Popcorn!”  added  Charles. 

“Gentlemen,”  said  Peter,,  who  soon  began  to  suspect 
they  were  quizzing  him,  of  all  offences  the  most  unpardon- 
able, “ I guess  you’re  not  in  earnest,  for  I believe  the  bear 
was  dead  before  I struck  her.  But  I don’t  like  to  be  made 
sport  of.  If  you  doubt  my  courage,  just  strip  and  let  us 
fight  it  out !” 

But  this  was  not  agreed  to.  Boxing  was  not  one  of 
their  accomplishments ; and  they  declined  the  honour,  as- 
suring Peter  they  did  not  doubt  his  superiority  in  the  mode 
of  combat  proposed. 

The  braying  of  the  ass  was  caused  by  the  smell  of  the 
blood  of  the  bear.  Charles  had  been  informed  by  the  In- 
dian who  had  made  the  exchange  with  Peter,  that  it  was 
his  startling  braying,  whenever  he  got  the  scent  of  blood, 
which  rendered  it  necessary  to  part  with  him. 


11 


122 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


CHAPTER  X. 

ENCAMPMENT  ON  THE  ALLEGHANY — ARRIVAL  OF  JULIA  — 
THE  WARWHOOP — QUEEN  ESTHER. 

At  the  first  wail  of  the  whippoorwill  perched  on  the 
trunk  of  the  fallen  tree  where  the  Indian  maiden  sang  in 
the  daytime,  and  just  when  the  last  glimmer  of  twilight 
was  succeeded  by  the  silvery  rays  of  the  rising  moon,  our 
temporary  sojourners  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  were 
startled  by  the  hailing  halloo  of  an  Indian,  which  they  im- 
mediately understood  to  be  the  announcement  of  the  ap- 
proach of  Julia,  the  captive  maiden. 

The  only  direction  by  which  horses  could  approach  the 
small  area  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  the  encampment 
was  by  following  the  course  of  the  river,  along  the  right 
bank  of  which  was  an  old  Indian  path.  Up  this  path 
Charles  and  the  Indian  maiden  ran,  hand-in-hand,  to  meet 
the  captive;  and  when  they  turned  an  acute  point  of  one 
of  the  ridges,  round  which  wound  the  path,  meandering 
with  the  stream,  they  beheld  the  object  of  their  solicitude. 
Rushing  forward,  Charles  clasped  his  affianced  in  his  arms, 
and,  when  relinquished  by  him,  she  was  as  heartily  em- 
braced by  the  Indian  maiden. 

Silence  prevailed  for  many  moments,  during  which  their 
tears  could  not  be  restrained.  But  their  throbbing  hearts 
were  relieved. 

“ Oh,  Julia,”  said  Charles,  “I  did  not  think,  when  we 
parted,  we  should  meet  again  in  such  a place  as  this ! I, 
too,  am  a prisoner.  They  detained  me  in  hopes  I would 
unite  with  them  in  the  war  against  the  Colonists.  And  they 
brought  thee  hither  to  remove  one  of  the  motives  I might 
have  to  escape.  I fear  you  have  suffered  very  much.!” 

“ Indeed,  I have  not!”  replied  Julia,  with  a slight  smile 
and  a blush.  “ It  has  been  like  a dream — a repetition  in 
my  slumbers  of  some  of  the  fireside  stories  I have  listened 
to  of  long  winter  evenings.  The  two  chiefs  who  captured 
me  could  speak  our  language  very  well,  and  provided  every 


SECOND  SERIES. 


125 


Cu  .ivenicnce  for  me  in  their  power.  Their  first  care  was  to 
assure  me  I should  sustain  no  injury;  their  next,  that  1 
should  meet  with  thee.  After  that,  all  was  pleasing  novelty 
and  romantic  adventure. ” 

“ Her  voice  is  like  the  warbling  of  the  robin  or  the 
sound  of  dancing  waters,”  said  the  Indian  girl;  and  Charles 
rendered  it  into  English. 

“ IIow  beautiful !”  said  Julia,  gazing  at  the  face  of  the 
child  of  the  forest. 

“Let  us  now  hasten  to  the  tent  of  my  Indian  mother,” 
said  Charles,  leading  the  way.  “But  who  is  that?”  he 
continued,  seeing  a white  man  following,  the  two  chiefs 
having  halted  with  Queen  Esther’s  guard. 

“ That  is  our  gardener,  Paddy  Pence,”  said  Julia.  “You 
may  come  now,  Paddy,”  she  continued. 

Paddy  ran  forward  and  prostrated  himself  before  Charles, 
whom  he  had  not  recognised;  for  Julia,  with  maiden  mo- 
desty, not  wishing  him  to  hear  that  which  might  be  uttered 
on  her  meeting  with  her  lover,  had  directed  him  to  remain 
some  distance  behind. 

“ Oh,  Misther  Indian  chafe,”  cried  he,  “ if  you  have  kilt 
Mr.  Charles,  do  plase  send  me  and  Miss  Julia  back  to  the 
Jenny  Jump,  and  Mr.  Schooley  will  pay  you  a thousand 
pounds ; I know  he  will,  for  he  said  he  would !” 

“When  did  he  say  that,  Paddy?”  asked  Julia. 

“ I mane  I know  he  would  naturally  say  sich  a thing 
afther  he  found  out  we  had  both  been  captivated !” 

“Paddy!”  said  Charles. 

“ You  know  me  name,  Misther  Indian  ; and  I hope  you 
don’t  mane  to  take  the  sculp  of  a frind.” 

“Paddy,  don’t  you  know  me?” 

“Are  you  one  of  the  great  and  noble  and  ginerous  chafes 
who  used  to  ate  and  smoke  at  Misther  Schooley’s  table  ? I 
thought  I knew  yer  voice.  And  do  you  know  I always 
thought  you  the  handsomest  one  of  them  all  ?” 

“Be  done,  now,  Paddy;  none  of  your  nonsense,  or  by 
the  patron  saint  of  all  the  Paddies  of  ould  Ireland ” 

“ Wha ! I know  you  now,  Mr.  Charles,  by  your  poor 
brogue!”  cried  Paddy,  leaping  up.  “And,  as  sure  as  the 
moon  is  shining  over  us,  I had  forgotten  your  hunting- 
shirt,  and  leggins,  and  breech-clout,  on  the  day  you  left 


124 


WILD  WESTE11N  SCENES: 


us.  And  here  I’ve  been  mistaking  you  for  one  of  them 
blackguard  savages !” 

“ Paddy,”  said  Julia,  as  they  moved  slowly  toward  the 
fire  at  the  hut,  “you  must  not  abuse  the  Indians.  If 
Charles  is  not  one,  this  lady  is.” 

“I  beg  yer  pardon,  miss,”  said  he,  addressing  the 
Thrush ; “ it  wTas  only  an  Irish  slape  o’  the  tongue.” 

After  interpreting  the  speech,  Charles  informed  Paddy 
that  the  Indian  lady  did  not  understand  English. 

“ Then,  be  the  powers,”  said  Paddy,  “she  wouldn’t  be 
likely  to  sculp  me  for  me  Irish.” 

They  were  met  at  the  threshhold  of  the  encampment  by 
the  foster-mother  of  Charles,  who  tenderly  folded  Julia  in 
her  arms,  and  placed  her  on  the  seat  of  furs  which  had 
been  provided  for  her.  She  gazed  long  in  admiration  of 
the  features  and  form  of  the  white  maiden  ; and  then,  turn- 
ing to  Charles,  said  she  was  very  lovely,  but  that  he  must 
not  permit  her  to  estrange  him  from  his  forest  sister. 

Every  delicacy  the  camp  afforded  was  produced  for  the 
captives;  and  Paddy  had  just  a sufficient  recollection  of  his 
position  and  his  duty  to  forbear  the  gratification  of  his 
ravenous  appetite  until  his  mistress  bade  him  eat. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  who  had  been  making  the  woods 
vocal  with  his  spiritual  songs,  came  in  and  shared  the 
smiles  of  Julia.  Calvin,  too,  paid  his  devoirs  in  his  usual 
melancholy  way 

“ Murther !”  said  Paddy,  at  the  end  of  his  repast,  when, 
lifting  up  his  eyes,  he  saw,  standing  before  him,  a toma- 
hawk in  one  hand  and  a scalping-knife  in  the  other,  the 
redoubtable  rotundity  of  the  /chief  of  the  Capitanasses, 
— Popcorn. 

“I  hope  you  couldn’t  be  so  cruel,  Mr.  Indian,  as  to 
sthrike  a man  wid  a full  stomach,  and  when  he’s  in  sich  a 
good  humour  that  he  wouldn’t  bate  the  worst  inemy  in  the 
world.” 

“Paddy!”  said  Peter  Shaver,  hardly  able  to  maintain 
his  composure,  although  still  conscious  of  the  presence  of 
the  dark  blotches  painted  on  his  face  by  the  Minisink 
artist. 

“Paddy!”  iterated  the  gardener.  “ The  divil  take  me 
if  me  name  isn’t  pat  in  the  mouths  of  all  the  black — - 
Misther  Charles,  can  this  chafe  understand  English  ?” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


125 


“ Perfectly;  and  Irish  too,”  said  Charles. 

“I  mane,”  continued  Paddy,  “in  the  mouths  of  all  tho 
picturesquely-painted  chafes  of  the  magnificent  natural 
forests  and  mossy  strames  and  gliding  rocks.” 

“Paddy  Pence,”  continued  Peter,  approaching  a step 
nearer,  “don’t  you  know  me  ?” 

“No  doubt  of  it,  yer  noble  honour;  but  I can’t  jist  call 
yer  name  at  prisent,  though  it  was  on  the  ind  of  me  tongue 
a minute  since.  You  came  to  Misther  Schooley’s  wid  the 

rest  of  the  tall  majestic  chafes  and ” 

“Paddy  Pence,”  said  the  other,  “you  are  the  first  man 
who  ever  called  Peter  Shaver  tall  and  majestic,  and  I thank 
you  for  it.” 

“Peter  Shaver?  What!  Peter  Shaver,  our  little  pot- 
bellied overseer  ? It  is  ! Och,  forgive  me,  St.  Pater  ! Why, 
you  nasty  little  blackguard,  to  come  wid  your  disguises 
and  impose  yerself  on  gintlemen  as  a natural  chafe  of  these 
eternal  wildernesses ! Begone,  ye  spalpeen,  and  larn 
betther  manners !” 

“ Come  ! Foller  me,  and  I’ll  teach  you  better  manners, 
you  Irish  cur,  you !”  said  Peter,  rolling  up  his  sleeves,  and 
stepping  out  under  the  spreading  maples. 

“I  won’t  fight  ye,”  said  Paddy,  “wid  sich  savage  in- 
struments as  them,”  gazing  at  the  tomahawk  and  knife. 
“But  find  a good  hickory  cudgel,  and  I’ll  soon  paint  yer 
bald  head  the  original  colour  of  yer  hair.” 

Charles  and  Mr.  Jones  interposed,  and  after  a few  words 
of  peace  and  explanation  the  two  old  acquaintances  became 
reconciled,  and  sat  by  the  fire  the  remainder  of  the  evening 
relating  their  marvellous  adventures. 

And  Julia,  declaring  she  felt  no  fatigue,  as  her  progress 
through  the  wilderness  had  been  by  easy  though  tortuous 
marches,  readily  consented  to  narrate  the  manner  of  her 
capture. 

“Every  afternoon,”  said  she,  “since  the  forest-leaves 
have  been  variegated  by  the  early  frosts,  it  has  been  my 
habit  to  ride  over  the  grounds  we  used  to  visk  together.  It 
was  not  considered  prudent  to  walk  alone  in  the  paths,  for 
a number  of  large  rattlesnakes  had  been  seen  by  Mr.  Green 
every  year  at  that  season,  seeking,  as  he  says,  their  dens 
in  the  rocks  where  they  pass  the  winter.  Nor  would  my 
guardian  permit  me  to  go  unattended.  Richard,  you  know. 


126 


WILO  WESTERN  SCENES: 


could  not  spare  the  time  to  accompany  me.  And  so  Paddy 
armed  with  the  French  fowling-piece  given  to  Mr.  Schooley 
by  Governor  Franklin,  followed  my  steps,  and  kept  my 
erratic  person  in  view,  as  much  as  I saw  proper  to  nermit 
him.  But  my  chief  reliance  was  on  Solo,  my  poor,  faithful 
companion. 

“ It  was  upon  the  gentle  slope  where  Richard,  you  know, 
had  girdled  the  noble  forest-trees  for  the  purpose  of  enclos- 
ing another  field,  that  I paused  and  listened  to  the  dirge* 
like  sound  of  the  breeze  as  it  murmured  through  the  boughs 
of  the  stricken  oaks.  And  I sang  a mournful  ditty, — the 
requiem  you  composed  for  the  night  of  the  conflagration 
of  the  grove  devoted  to  destruction  by  the  civilized  Van- 
dals. Leaning  on  my  elbow, — no  doubt  the  picture  of  de- 
jection,— and  my  sympathetic  palfrey  as  motionless  as  a 
monument,  I was  startled  by  the  sudden  cry  of  poor  Solo ; 
and,  turning,  I saw  him  rolling  in  agony  on  the  ground, 
transfixed  by  an  arrow  which  had  passed  through  the  points 
of  his  shoulders.  Paddy  came  running  toward  me  with 
great  swiftness,  but  when  he  saw  the  arrow  he  fired  his 
gun  at  random,  and,  without  pausing  to  recharge  it,  threw 
it  down  and  took  to  his  heels.  But  he  was  instantly  con- 
fronted in  the  path  by  one  of  the  Mingo  chiefs,  who  laughed 
very  heartily  at  his  panic-stricken  face.  He  seized  him 
and  bound  his  hands. 

“ The  other  chief  arose  from  the  tall  grass  near  my 
horse,  and,  taking  the  reins  in  his  hand,  assured  me,  in  very 
good  English,  that  it  was  not  their  intention  to  injure  either 
of  us,  although  we  must  submit  to  be  their  prisoners  and 
promise  not  to  utter  any  cries.  He  said  he  was  employed 
to  convey  me  to  the  West,  where  I would  meet  the  White 
Eagle.  That  assurance,  Charles,  bereft  me  of  half  my 
terrors.  And  yet  a painful  thought  flashed  through  my 
mind ” 

That  I had,  perhaps,  resolved  to  become  an  Indian 
again,  and  might  be  violently  tearing  thee  away  from  thy 
home,,,  said  Charles,  smiling. 

“ Something  of  that  nature,  I admit,”  said  Julia ; “ but  it 
flitted  away  like  the  gleam  of  the  lightning,  and  the  Mingo 
assured  me  you  knew  nothing  of  his  proceeding.  The  ob- 
ject of  his  employer  was  to  prevent  you  from  returning  and 
bearing  arms  against  your  red  brethren.  Then  I signified 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  JULIA  AND  PADDY  BY  THE  MINGO  CHIEFS.— 

P.  126. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


12; 


my  readiness  to  accompany  them,  if  they  would  also  take 
my  poor  wounded  Solo.  This  they  could  not  agree  to. 
But  they  assured  me  his  wound  would  not  prove  fatal, 
though  it  had  been  their  intention  to  kill  him.  They  said 
the  report  of  Paddy’s  gun  would  soon  attract  the  people 
thitner,  and  the  dog  would  be  taken  care  of.  And  so  they 
hastened  us  away  to  the  old  sycamore,  where  their  horses 
wete  concealed.  Paddy  was  made  to  get  'up  behind  one  of 
the  chiefs,  and  then  we  plunged  into  hidden  paths,  whose 
existence  I had  no  knowledge  of  before,  and  rode,  I sup- 
pose, many  miles  without  halting.  They  spread  a shelter 
toward  morning  in  a deep  valley,  and  wrapped  me  in  furs, 
so  tnat  neither  the  chill  of  the  night-wind  nor  the  dew  of 
the  leaves  could  reach  me.  I could  not  eat  the  food  they 
offered;  but  I recollect  seeing  Paddy’s  jaws  in  motion.  1 
fell  asleep  and  dreamed  of  thee,  Charles,  and  the  Indian 
maiden,  and  a scene  like  this. 

“ When  daylight  appeared,  we  resumed  the  journey. 
Supposing  they  might  be  pursued,  our  captors  frequently 
deviated  from  the  usual  paths,  for  the  purpose  of  misleading 
those  who  might  attempt  to  follow  us. 

“ After  the  second  day,  the  chiefs  were  less  apprehensive 
of  being  overtaken.  They  now  suffered  poor  Paddy  to 
go  unbound,  but  warned  him  not  to  attempt  an  escape. 
This  he  pledged  himself  not  to  do,  assuring  them,  upon  his 
honour,  that,  if  liberated,  he  would  not  know  which  course 
to  take,  and  would  starve  in  the  woods.  In  short,  to  their 
infinite  amusement,  he  begged  them  not  to  leave  him  be- 
hind. They  killed  various  birds  and  other  tender  game 
for  me ; and,  my  appetite  returning,  I could  partake  of 
them  with  a good  relish. 

“ In  this  manner,  the  weather  being  very  beautiful  all 
the  time,  we  completed  the  journey.  Paddy  and  I were 
delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  seven  warriors — Senecas,  I 
think— encamped  a few  miles  from  this  place  up  the  stream. 
One  of  their  party  guided  us  hither,  and  uttered  the  halloo 
which  apprised  you  of  our  approach.  He  then  vanished, 
and  I saw  him  no  more.” 

When  Julia  concluded  her  recital,  Paddy,  who  had  been 
listening  to  Peter,  was  seen  to  spring  upright. 

“And  you  mane  to  tell  me  that  that  is  the  prant  of  the 


128 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


bear’s  nails  on  yer  leather  shirt?”  cried  he,  when  Popcorn 
recounted  his  recent  adventure. 

44  I do,  Paddy,  and  hang  me  if  I can’t  prove  it !” 

44  And  so  you  must  be  afther  having  a vulgar  set-to  at 
boxing  wid  the  filthy  crature,  instead  of  using  a shelalah ? 
T m astonished  at  yer  taste  Vr 

44  But  I killed  him  with  my  tomahawk,  Paddy,”  added 
Peter,  in  a low  tone,  44  and  he  never  hurt  a hair  of  my 
head.” 

44  A precious  small  dale  ye  have  left  at  all ! If  it  wasn’t 
for  the  shaving  of  the  hair,  and  painting  of  wan’s  counte- 
nance in  that  blackguard  fashion,  I would  have  no  objec- 
tions to  be  an  Indian  meself  for  the  trifle  of  a week  or 
two.  But  what  do  they  lave  that  plume  of  a tuft  on  the 
top  o’  yer  head  for?” 

“ That’s  the  scalp-lock,  Paddy.” 

44The  sculp-lock ! Divil  the  bit  shall  they  have  to  sculp 
me  by!  I’ll  have  ivery  blade  taken  off  the  top  o’  my 
head ! I’ll  be  as  bald  as  a shaven  monk  to  morrow  morn- 
ing, if  there’s  a razor  to  be  had  ! They  shall  find  no  sculp- 
lock  on  Paddy’s  head ! And  now,  what  in  nature  is  that 
horrid  roar  I hear?” 

44  That’s  my — my  horse,  Paddy,”  said  Peter,  hesitating, 
and  recognising  the  sound. 

44  And  I’d  like  to  saa.  that  same  horse  o’  yours.  I hope 
you  don’t  fade  him  in  the  ear.” 

44  In  the  ear  ?” 

44  Yes ; hasn’t  he  ears  ?” 

44  Oh,  very  large  ones.  But  I don’t  know  what  he  can 
be  smelling  now.  Didn’t  you  hear  something?” 

Shouts  and  the  reports  of  guns  were  indeed  heard. 
Charles  and  Ca\vin  sprang  up  and  listened  attentively. 

44  McSwine !”  said  Charles.  44  It  is  the  voice  of  McSwine  ! 
Julia,  your  captors  were  pursued,  and  have  been  overtaken. 
My  father  permitted  McSwine  to  go  upon  the  trail,  and  he 
is  an  experienced  woodsman.  Listen  ! Did  you  not  hear 
that?  The  Senecas  cry,  Oonaii  ! It  is  for  us  to  fly.  We 
will  not  move  ! My  mother,  let  Queen  Esther’s  guards 
hide  from  the  fatal  aim  of  McSwine.  He  is  our  friend, 
and  will  deliver  us.  We  will  remain!” 

44  My  son,”  said  the  Gentle  Moonlight,  44  there  are  more 
than  a hundred  Seneca  warriors  encamped  behind  us,  and 


SECOND  SERIES. 


120 


others  are  on  the  march.  They  have  been  sent  to  kill 
buffalo,  and  merely  await  our  motions,  for  they  have  been 
charged  to  see  that  no  one  escapes  before  we  reach  Chili- 
cothe.  Such  was  the  speech  of  a runner  who  passed  this 
morning.,, 

“ Queen  Esther,”  said  Calvin,  “ cannot  have  given  orders 
to  restrain  my  actions.  I will  go  to  the  Oneidas,  and  then 
to  the  faithful  band  of  Delawares  remaining  in  their  wig- 
wams. I will  return  with  as  many  as  will  accompany  me, 
and  we  will  defend  the  sister  of  Brandt’s  mother,  and  his 
own  sister.” 

Calvin  started  away,  and  was  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the 
intricacies  of  the  woods.  Meantime  an  occasional  shot  was 
heard,  followed  by  the  yells  of  the  savages,  which  seemed 
to  grow  fainter  in  the  distance. 

Charles  went  forth  alone  in  the  direction  from  which  the 
yells  at  first  proceeded,  and  sounded  a horn  his  father  had 
Ngiven  him.  It  was  replied  to  immediately  by  McSwine, 
who  was  standing  but  a few  hundred  paces  distant.  The 
next  moment  the  rescuing  party  advanced,  and  were  soon 
greeted  with  the  animated  congratulations  of  Charles. 

“ Hoot,  mon  ! Our  blude’s  up  ! Where’s  the  lassie?” 
said  McSwine. 

“ Safe,  safe  !”  cried  Charles.  “She  is  yonder,  where  the 
fire  is  glimmering,  in  the  camp  of  my  foster-mother.  And 
she  is  safe  for  the  night.  The  Senecas,  though  wolves  by 
day,  do  not  often  prowl  in  the  night.  Come  in  and  eat. 
And  you  are  here,  Will?”  he  continued,  heartily  wel- 
coming Yan  Wiggens,  and  patting  the  head  of  his  frisky, 
stump-tailed  dog. 

“Yes,  tarn  dem!”  said  he.  “ Dey  steal  te  goot  and  te 
peautiful  Miss  Lane,  and  leave  te  scolding  Mrs.  Wan 
Yiggens !” 

Charles  cordially  grasped  the  hands  of  the  rest  of  the 
party — some  five  or  six  in  all — who  had  accompanied 
McSwine. 

But  the  Indians  knew  McSwine’s  Scotch  accent,  and 
recollected  his  herculean  frame,  which,  years  before,  had 
been  terribly  familiar.  Hence  their  flight  before  they 
knew  exactly  the  numerical  strength  of  the  rescuers. 

Charles  led  his  friends  into  the  tent  of  his  Indian 
mother,  where  Julia  gave  utterance  to  the  thanks  she  felt 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


130 

for  the  pursuit,  and  where  the  Indian  maiden  and  her  aunt 
had  already  prepared  for  them  a plentiful  repast. 

They  ate  like  half-starved  wolves,  having  fasted  for 
several  days.  And,  as  they  masticated  the  bear,  Peter 
Shaver  was  heard  to  say  he  had  killed  him. 

“Tam!  Who’s  dat  tere  ?”  cried  Van  Wiggens,  point- 
ing at  the  chief  of  the  Capitanasses. 

“I’m  Peter  Shaver,  Will,”  said  he.  “Don’t  you  know 
rue  ?” 

“Peter  Shaver?  Warn’t  he  droWnded  at  te  Gap? 
Dey  saw  a pig  fat  round  ting  floating  town  te  river, 
which  some  said  was  a swelt  hog,  and  some  said  it  vas  like 
Peter  Shaver.  Most  of  us  dought  it  vas  Peter,  and  it 
vas  more  like  him  tan  you.” 

“Bill  Van  Wiggens,”  said  Peter,  quivering  with  anger, 
“you  once  felt  Peter  Shaver’s  fist  on  your  fat  paunch.  If 
you’ll  step  out,  you  may  feel  it  again,  and  then  you’ll  know 
him  !” 

“ Tat’s  his  voice,  I’ll  swear  to  it!”  said  Van  Wiggens. 
“ I pelieve  you  now,  Peter.  You  needn’t  prove  it  any 
more.  And  you  look  more  like  a man  as  an  Indian  tan 
you  did  before.  Peter,”  he  continued,  in  a half  whisper, 
“tarn  if  I don’t  turn  Indian  myself!  Mrs.  Wan  Yiggens 
will  be  afraid  of  me  den  !” 

Peter  Shaver,  Paddy  Pence,  and  Will  Van  Wiggens, 
surrounded  by  the  three  or  four  clansmen  of  the  Cameron 
who  had  followed  McSwine,  formed  a separate  group  some 
paces  apart,  and  entertained,  each  other  with  the  recital  of 
their  exploits. 

“Now,  Hugh,”  said  Charles,  when  the  last  bone  had 
been  picked,  “ you  will  tell  me  the  news  of  the  valley,  and 
first  of  my  father.” 

“Well,  mon,  well.  The  laird  was  never  sick  in  his  life, 
since  we  carried  him  over  the  hills  of  Scotland,  his  breast 
and  shoulders  shot  to  pieces  by  the  English  cannon.  He 
reads  and  studies  in  his  castle,  watching  for  his  bonny 
laddie’s  return,  but  not  impatiently.  He  waits  the  Lord’s 
time,  who  holds  us  all  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.” 

“God  bless  my  good  father!”  said  Charles;  and  Mc- 
Swine uttered  a hearty  Amen. 

The  faithful  Scot  informed  Charles  that  the  capture  of 
Julia  had  produced  great  consternation  in  the  neighbour 


SECOND  SERIES. 


131 


hood,  and  for  several  days  after  the  occurrence  it  seemed 
doubtful  whether  a party  could  be  formed  to  go  in  pursuit. 
Mr.  Schooley,  almost  distracted,  did  nothing  but  write  let- 
ters to  all  the  chiefs  and  sachems  he  had  ever  known ; but 
there  were  no  messengers  to  deliver  them.  Richard  rode 
from  one  house  to  another,  offering  insignificant  pecuniary 
rewards  for  the  rescue  and  restitution  of  the  lady.  His 
tears  flowed  incessantly,  but  he  was  religiously  averse  to 
bearing  arms  himself.  Yet  he  ran  and  brought  the 
French  gun  that  had  been  dropped  by  Paddy,  and,  putting 
it  in  the  hands  of  Yan  Wiggens,  proposed  supplying  the 
whole  party  with  horses  and  ammunition. ” 

44  Poor  Solo !”  cried  Julia,  at  this  point.  44  Tell  me,  good 
Hugh : what  was  my  poor  dog’s  condition  wThen  you  left  ? 
Say  no  more  of  Richard,  or  his  honest  scruples.” 

McSwine  informed  her  that  he  had  himself  withdrawn 
the  arrow,  and  that  the  faithful  animal  could  use  his  legs 
immediately,  for  he  evinced  his  gratitude  by  leaping  up 
with  his  paw^s  against  his  breast ; and,  when  they  started  in 
the  pursuit,  Solo  had  to  be  locked  up,  else  he  would  have 
followed  them,  and  might  have  died  on  the  way. 

44  Let  us  pray  !”  said  Mr.  Jones,  suddenly  returning  from 
one  of  his  solitary  nocturnal  rambles,  during  which  he  had 
been  forgotten  by  the  rest  of  the  party.  44  I have  heard 
the  signals  of  the  wolves  of  Queen  Esther.  They  are  ral- 
lying in  the  mountains,  and  after  they  have  buried  their 
dead  they  will  come  upon  us  with  howls  and  gnashing 
teeth.” 

44  You’ve  got  my  French  gun,  Mr.  Yan  Wiggens,”  said 
Paddy,  44  and  I can’t  fight.” 

44  You  shall  have  one  of  my  pistols,  Paddy,”  said 
Charles. 

44  And  one  of  mine,”  said  Mr.  Jones.  44  My  voice  will 
intimidate  them  more  than  my  arms.  But,  alas ! blood  has 
been  spilled.  I heard  their  death-halloo.” 

44  True,  mon  !”  said  Hugh,  44  we  fired  bock  at  ’em.  And 
when  Hugh  McSwine  fires  his  rifle  at  mortal  mon  he  be- 
comes immortal.” 

44  Let  us  pray,  then !”  repeated  David  Jones,  falling  down 
on  his  knees.  The  whole  party,  excepting  the  Presbyte- 
rians, followed  his  example ; the  Indian  maiden  and  her 
aunt  with  as  little  hesitation  as  the  rest.  And  the  Indians, 


132 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


unlike  many  of  the  civilized  Christians,  never  experience 
any  feeling  of  shame  or  degradation  in  bowing  before  the 
Great  Spirit  in  humble  adoration.  They  care  not  who  sees 
them  worship  the  Creator,  any  more  than  to  be  seen  ad- 
miring a beautiful  flower,  or  when  charmed  by  a sublime 
spectacle  of  natural  scenery. 

The  eccentric  Baptist  uttered  a long  petition  to  the 
Supreme  Ruler.  He  prayed  that  the  party  then  kneeling 
in  the  solitude  of  the  wilderness.  might  be  delivered  fioin 
their  enemies ; and,  next,  that  the  Sons  of  Liberty,  led  into 
battle  by  George  Washington,  might  triumph  over  the 
legions  of  the  tyrant. 

Then  he  admonished  his  hearers  that  to  merit  the  aid 
of  their  Maker  it  was  indispensable  that  they  should  be 
eager  to  help  themselves,  which  was  the  best  proof  of  their 
worthiness  to  be  assisted. 

And  after  this,  Mr.  Jones,  by  the  permission  of  the 
party,  retired  a few  paces  apart,  and  sang  one  of  the  mar- 
tial psalms  of  David,  in  which  all  the  honour  of  victory  was 
ascribed  to  the  Lord.  And  as  the  savage  orgies  of  the 
Senecas  in  the  distant  hills  could  be  distinctly  heard,  con- 
stantly borne  on  the  gentle  night-breezes,  the  mighty  sound 
of  Mr.  Jones’s  voice  must  have  penetrated  the  ears  of  the 
enemy. 

After  their  defeat,  the  guard  of  Senecas  bore  their  dead 
— two  of  their  number  having  fallen — to  a place  of  se- 
curity, and  buried  them  with  all  the  ceremonies  usual  on 
such  occasions.  They  then  sent  a runner  to  the  large 
hunting-party  of  their  nation  encamped  in  the  vicinity. 
Just  before  the  messenger  reached  the  encampment,  Queen 
Esther  arrived ; and  when  the  runner  delivered  his  mes- 
sage, and  made  known  the  fact  that  two  of  the  guard  had 
fallen,  an  intense  excitement  ensued.  Queen  Esther,  who 
had  been  accompanied  by  several  of  the  principal  chiefs 
recently  returned  from  Oswego,  immediately  summoned  a 
council  of  warriors,  at  which  it  was  resolved  to  surround 
the  camp  on  the  Alleghany  at  early  dawn  and  demand  the 
delivery  of  the  offending  whites  into  their  hands.  This 
project  had  the  hearty  approval  of  the  Queen,  and  she  an- 
ticipated with  delight  the  torture  she  meant  to  inflict  on 
her  captives. 

But  Bartholomew  Calvin  had  not  been  idle.  He  col- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


133 


lected  the  party  of  Delawares  who  still  acknowledged  his 
authority,  and  also  a number  of  Cherokees  from  the  South, 
who  were  passing  toward  the  neutral  hunting-grounds  be- 
yond the  Ohio.  A small  band  of  Shawnees,  being  assured 
they  had  no  cause  of  complaint  against  the  Colonists  for 
the  murder  of  Cornstalk  at  Fort  Point  Pleasant,  as  that 
deed  had  been  done  by  the  agents  of  Lord  Dunmore,  like- 
wise consented  to  join  him,  but  with  no  promise  to  make 
war  against  the  Senecas.  These,  together  with  the  seven 
Oneidas  granted  as  a special  protection  to  Gentle  Moon- 
light and  BrowTn  Thrush,  numbered  altogether,  including 
the  party  at  the  camp,  some  seventy  men ; and,  apprehend- 
ing an  early  assault,  Calvin  lost  no  time  in  leading  his  suc- 
cours to  the  scene  of  action.  They  arrived  late  in  the  night, 
and,  to  avoid  disturbing  the  slumber  of  our  party,  sought  a 
few  hours'  repose  under  shelter  of  the  surrounding  trees. 

As  they  had  foreseen,  the  wTarwhoop  of  the  Senecas  rang 
down  the  valley  of  the  Alleghany  at  early  twilight.  Charles, 
and  Calvin,  and  Hugh,  followed  by  the  rescuing  party  of 
Scots,  rushed  at  once  to  the  narrow  pass  above,  which,  if 
successfully  defended,  closed  the  principal  avenue  of  access 
to  the  encampment ; for  it  was  defended  in  other  places  by 
almost  precipitous  cliffs. 

The  Indians  who  had  followed  Calvin  still  lay  concealed, 
in  obedience  to  his  instructions. 

At  the  pass  Queen  Esther  herself  came  forward  and  de- 
manded the  delivery  of  the  party  who  had  fired  on  her 
guard.  This  request  was  refused  by  Charles,  because  the 
guard  had  been  the  first  to  fire,  and  because  the  whites 
were  his  friends,  and  were  pursuing  the  Indians  who  had 
captured  the  unoffending  maiden. 

“ You  see  I have  the  means  of  compelling  obedience, ” 
said  Esther,  pointing  to  the  long  array  of  painted  warriors 
behind. 

66 1 see  you  have  many  brave  men,”  said  Charles,  “but 
we  have  warriors  quite  as  bold  to  meet  them." 

“ But  not  so  many,  On-yit-hah,”  (bird  of  the  strong  wing.) 
“ And  why  should  the  White  Eagle  defend  the  accursed  pale- 
faces ? Ay,  he  is  a pale-face,  too  ! And  am  not  I a pale- 
face ? But  we  have  dwelt  among  the  sons  of  the  forest,  to 
whom  the  great  Ha-wen-no-yu  gave  the  whole  of  the 
woods  and  the  prairies.  America’s  rivers,  mines,  minerals, 

12 


1&4 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES! 


fishings,  hawkings,  huntings,  and  fowlings, — as  enumerated 
in  the  impudent  grant  of  James,  Duke  of  York,  to  Berke- 
ley, Baron  of  Stratton, — and  all  other  royalties,  profits, 
commodities,  and  hereditaments,  have  ever  belonged,  and 
ever  should  in  justice  belong,  to  the  noble  Indians,  who 
have  spared  and  adopted  us.  You  and  I are  bound  in 
honour  to  be  the  foes  of  their  foes,  the  friends  of  their 
friends.  Speak,  On-yit-hah !” 

“ Queen  Esther,  it  is  too  late  to  reverse  the  doom  of  the 
Indians.  They  now  stand  but  as  the  trunks  of  the  trees  of 
the  forest,  while  the  pale-faces  are  as  innumerable  as  the 
leaves  or  the  stars  of  heaven.  The  leaves  may  fall;  they 
return  again  in  the  spring ; but  the  oak,  once  uprooted  or 
felled,  rises  no  more.  It  is  in  vain  to  speak  of  exterminat- 
ing the  white  race  on  these  shores.  And  whether  King 
George  succeeds  in  subjugating  the  people,  or  the  people 
in  throwing  off  their  allegiance,  the  result  will  be  the  same 
to  the  doomed  Indian.  I will  weep  with  you  and  mourn 
their  sad  destiny ; but  it  would  be  worse  than  useless  to 
contend  for  them  in  battle,  and  criminal  to  engage  them  on 
either  side  in  the  strife  between  the  Colonies  and  the  crowrn. 
Let  us  unite  in  preserving  them  from  the  danger  on  every 
hand,  and  thus  wre  may  contribute  to  prolong  their  exist- 
ence.” 

“ Enough,  ungrateful  boy!  But  you  and  I must  perish 
with  the  doomed  Indian  ! Know  you  not  it  is  better  to  die 
nobly  and  quickly  amid  the  smoke  and  slaughter  of  battle, 
than  to  ignominiously  drag  out  a miserable  existence  and 
finally  sink  into  contempt?  Better  that  you,  and  the  white 
maiden,  and  your  Indian  mother,  and  Thayendanegea’s  in- 
fatuated sister,  should  all  perish,  than  breed  divisions  among 
the  warriors  of  the  scattered  nations.  And  you,  degenerate 
son  of  the  Lenni  Lenappe,”  she  continued,  addressing  Cal- 
vin, “ why  dost  thou  not  sigh  at  the  feet  of  some  high-born 
white  damsel  ?” 

“ Queen  Esther!”  replied  the  enraged  youth,  “ whoever 
accepts  me  for  a husband  must  be  virtuous  and  contented 
with  her  lot.  And  such  was  not  the  case  with  thee.” 

“ Fool ! cow’ard ! wretch  !”  cried  the  exasperated  old 
hag.  “ I will  have  you  a prisoner  and  burn  you  at  the 
stake!” 

“Not  so  fast,  madam,  if  you  please!”  said  Calvin. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


135 


“ There  are  warriors  of  my  nation  now  crouching  within 
call.  Let  your  wolves  but  once  more  sound  the  warwhoop, 
and  thou  shalt  be  my  prisoner !” 

“ Ha  ! ha  ! ha  ! The  poor  silly  youth  ! Boasting  of  his 
Delawares  when  there  are  not  two  hundred  of  them  capable 
of  bearing  arms  if  they  were  all  collected  from  the  four 
quarters  of  the  earth !” 

“We  have  Oneidas,  Cherokees,  and  Shawnees  in  our 
camp/’  said  Charles. 

“Not  seventy,  all  told,  On-yit-hah.  I learned  at  the 
council  the  numbers  and  probable  localities  of  every  nation. 
But  Indians  should  not  shed  each  other’s  blood.  We  came 
hither  to  fight  the  white  men  who  slew  our  warriors.  Will 
you  give  them  up  ?” 

“Not  while  there  is  an  arm  among  us  strong  enough  to 
raise  a tomahawk  !” 

Queen  Esther,  seeing  the  pass  could  be  defended  by  the 
small  party  already  posted  in  the  commanding  positions, 
drew  back,  announcing  her  purpose  to  consult  her  chiefs 
once  more  before  giving  the  signal  for  the  attack. 

And  while  Charles  awaited  the  result  of  the  consultation, 
Paddy  Pence  came  running  toward  him,  nearly  out  of 
breath,  and  very  pale. 

“Mr.  Charles!  Mr.  Charles!”  said  he,  “there’s  Indians 
in  the  bushes  under  the  trays.  I stepped  aside,  niver 
draming  of  sich  a thing,  and  when  I cast  me  eyes  down- 
ward, sure  enough  I beheld  an  Indian  foments  me  toes. 
And  he  was  winking  and  making  mouths,  and  screwing 
about  in  his  slape  ! I turned  as  soon  as  I could  conva- 
niently,  and  tried  to  stale  softly  away.  But,  as  St.  Pater’s 
my  witness,  the  logs  I thought  I was  stipping  over  ivery- 
where  were  shaping  Indians  ! And  I sat  down  on  one,  and 
he  drew  up  his  fut  and  struck  me  behind  such  a powerful 
blow  that  me  head,  before  I could  stop  it,  went  against  a 
tree  siven  yards  away.” 

“ Nonsense ! Don’t  trouble  me  now  with  your  idle 
dreams,”  said  Charles,  making  an  effort  to  assume  a severe 
gravity. 

“ Drames  ! Och,  murther  ! An’  I hope  the  savage  will 
think  it  a drame  when  he  wakes  up ! Och,  Paddy  Pence, 
Paddy  Pence ! It’s  coming  to  be  the  very  thing  they  said 
wou]d  happen  to  ye  in  the  wild  country  of  America !” 


130 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


Leaving  the  Highlanders  under  McSwine  posted  in  posi- 
tions to  command  the  pass,  Charles,  who  had  been  beckoned 
away  by  his  foster-mother,  slowly  walked  toward  the  tent. 
She  lifted  the  curtain  of  dressed  skins,  and  revealed  a 
spectacle  that  caused  the  young  man’s  bosom  to  swell  with 
tender  emotions.  At  the  extremity  of  the  pavilion  he  be- 
held Julia  partly  habited  in  the  Indian  costume,  profusely 
and  richly  ornamented.  At  her  feet  sat  the  Indian  maiden, 
her  head  reclining  on  the  captive’s  knee  and  her  lustrous 
eyes  fixed  in  admiration  on  her  lovely  face. 

66  The  Brown  Thrush  is  very  kind  to  her  pale  sister,” 
said  Charles,  advancing  in  obedience  to  the  desire  of  his 
foster-mother. 

“ Oh,  yes!”  said  Julia,  smiling  sadly.  “She  has  been 
kind  and  loving.  And  what  return  can  I make  for  such 
affection  ? To  carry  her  into  the  habitations  of  our  people 
would  be  to  deprive  her  of  happiness.” 

“Kacha  Manito  dwells  in  the  air,”  said  the  Indian 
maiden,  who  had  learned  many  English  words.  “ He  likes 
trees,  flowers,  rocks,  and  streams.  He  would  not  qtay  in 
strong  houses.”  / 

“And  I could  not  dwell  in  tents,”  said  Julia. 

“ Unless  detained  as  a prisoner,”  said  Charles. 

“ Oh,  then  there  would  be  no  remedy,”  said  she. 

“Would  the  Antelope  escape?”  asked  the  Thrush.  “If 
so,  she  shall  return  to  her  people ; and,  if  she  desires  her 
Indian  sister  to  go  with  her,  she  will  do  so.  And  then  the 
White  Eagle  will  put  down  his  tomahawk  and  rifle,  and  no 
one  will  watch  to  take  away  his  life.  His  sisters  would  be 
very  happy.” 

“But  the  Thrush  would  droop  and  die  if  taken  from  her 
native  woods,”  said  Julia. 

“ Then  she  would  go  to  the  Spirit-land  and  sing  until 
her  white  sister  and  the  White  Eagle  came.  In  that  hunt- 
ing-ground there  are  no  rains  to  wet,  no  frosts  to  chill  us. 
The  good  Manito  makes  all  happy.  No  more  dying,  no 
more  pain  here,”  she  added,  placing  her  hand  on  her  breast 

“And  hast  thou  any  pain  there?”  asked  Julia. 

“Oh,  yes!  The  Malcha  Manito  keeps  saying  I must 
kill  the  Antelope,  or  On-yit-hah  (bird  of  the  strong  wing) 
will  fly  away  and  return  no  more.  But  the  Good  Spirit 
whispers  that  when  the  Antelope  dies  the  White  Eagle  will 


SECOND  SERIES. 


137 


fold  his  wings  on  some  high  rock  and  close  his  eyes.  I 
could  not  bear  to  see  him  so.” 

After  a long  silence,  during  which  both  Charles  and  Julia 
scanned  with  amazement  the  ingenuous  features  of  the  In- 
dian girl,  the  latter  asked  the  Thrush  if  she  had  not  said 
she  loved  her  white  sister,  and  if  she  could  really  be  induced 
to  take  her  life  if  assured  it  would  not  grieve  the  White 
Eagle.  - 

The  Indian  maiden  said  the  Thrush  never  sang  falsely. 
She  did  love  her  white  sister  dearly.  She  loved  her  before 
she  ever  saw  her  face,  from  the  description  her  brother 
(Brandt)  had  given,  and  because  the  White  Eagle  loved 
her.  But  she  said  it  would  not  be  an  unfriendly  act  to 
send  her  sister  to  the  eternal  flowers  and  fruits  of  the 
Spirit-land.  She  would  be  very  happy  there,  and  the 
Thrush  would  be  very  happy  here  with  the  White  Eagle. 

Charles  and  Julia  only  gazed  in  astonishment,  mingled 
with  painful  forebodings.  And  the  Indian  maiden  con- 
tinued substantially  as  follows  : — 

“But  her  white  brother  might  mourn,  and  never  smile 
again.  Then  his  forest-sister  would  do  nothing  but  shed 
tears.  No  ; she  would  not  kill  her  sister.  Her  word  was 
spoken.  But  her  white  sister  might  kill  her.  She  would 
dig  up  a root  for  the  Antelope  to  give  her.  She  would 
take  it  from  her  snow-white  hand  and  swallow  it.  She 
would  be  happy  in  the  Spirit-land,  and  her  pale-face  sister 
would  be  happy  with  the  White  Eagle  in  the  house  of  his 
white-haired  father.” 

“ No  !”  said  Charles,  with  emphasis.  “ The  White  Eagle 
would  be  as  miserable  if  his  red  sister  died  as  he  would  to 
lose  his  Antelope.  Neither  must  die.'  But  if  one  of  them 
were  to  kill  the  other,  On-yit-hah  would  dart  up  into  the 
clouds  and  never  alight  upon  the  earth  again.  His  sisters 
must  live  and  love  each  other.” 

The  Indian  girl,  smiling  through  her  tears,  wound  her 
arms  round  the  form  of  Julia,  and  kissed  her  repeatedly. 

Charles,  being  informed  by  his  Indian  mother  that  a 
messenger  from  Queen  Esther  awaited  him  at  the  pass, 
hastened  in  that  direction. 

Julia’s  tears  were  wiped  away  by  the  long  silken  hair  of 
the  forest-maiden,  and  they  ate  together  the  delicious  viands 
placed  before  them  by  the  Gentle  Moonlight. 

12* 


138 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TIIE  COMPACT — PADDY  AND  THE  SOW — ARRIVAL  AT  CHFLLI- 

COTHE — THE  BAPTISM  OF  BOONE  AND  ST.  TAMMANY,  ETC. 

— RESOLUTION  TO  ESCAPE. 

When  Charles  approached  the  pass  where  the  messenger 
from  the  Senecas  awaited  him,  Hugh  McSwine  whispered 
to  him,  as  he  passed, — 

“ Be  watchful,  my  laddie.  Dinna’  trust  him  further  than 
you  can  see;  for  it’s  Girty!” 

“ Girty !”  said  Van  Wiggens,  hearing  the  name.  “ He’s 
a tarn  rascal.” 

“I  know  him  well,”  said  Charles.  “ Never  fear;  but 
keep  your  rifles  ready.” 

He  then  walked  boldly  forward,  and  accepted  the  hand 
which  Girty  offered  him. 

“I  suppose,  Mr.  Girty,”  said  Charles,  “you  are  pre- 
pared to  announce  the  decision  of  Esther’s  council.” 

Girty  hesitated  a moment  as  if  disconcerted.  He  had 
arrived  upon  the  ground  after  the  withdrawal  of  the  Queen 
from  the  pass,  and,  as  he  was  carefully  painted  and  costumed 
like  an  Indian,  it  had  been  his  wish  to  remain  unrecognised. 

“ The  eye  of  the  White  Eagle  is  clear,”  said  Girty,  not 
denying  his  identity ; “ and  no  doubt  his  wisdom  has  fore- 
seen the  result  of  the  deliberations  of  the  warriors.” 

“We  have  at  least  conjectured  what  might  be  the  de 
cision  of  our  enemies,”  said  Charles,  “ and  we  are  pre- 
pared for  any  contingency.” 

“ Be  assured  you  are  not  prepared  for  battle,”  said  Girty. 
“Five  hundred  Seneca  warriors  have  arrived  since  day- 
break.” 

“ The  few  we  have  to  oppose  them,”  said  Charles,  “are 
prepared  to  die  in  defence  of  the  white  maiden  and  those 
who  pursued  her  captors.  We  have  warriors  of  several 
tribes;  yours  are  all  Senecas.  We  have  Delawares,  Onei- 
das,  Cherokees,  and  Shawnees ; and,  if  you  attack  us,  you 
must  abide  the  consequences.  An  eternal  enmity  will  en- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


139 


sue  between  these  nations  and  the  Senecas.  And  the  In- 
dian maiden  is  the  sister  of  Brandt,  and  her  foster-mother 
his  aunt.  Queen  Esther  durst  not  attack  us !” 

“It  is  true!”  said  Girty,  admiring  the  bold  confidence 
of  the  young  man. 

“Then  what  can  you  do?”  demanded  Charles. 

“We  will  tell  the  Shawnees  that  the  garrison  at  Point 
Pleasant,  although  subject  to  the  orders  of  Lord  Dunmore, 
when  Cornstalk  and  his  son  were  murdered,  now  refuse  to 
obey  him,  and  that  the  men  who  performed  the  butchery 
are  among  the  rebels.  And  they  will  leave  your  camp.” 

The  facts,  as  stated  by  Girty,  were  undeniable,  and 
Charles  did  not  attempt  to  controvert  them. 

“Then  what  song,”  he  asked,  “has  Girty  to  charm  the 
ears  of  the  Cherokees?” 

“Did  they  not  sell  their  lands  in  Kentucky  to  a North 
Carolina  company,  and  has  not  Virginia  decided  that  the 
title  of  the  North  Carolinians  is  invalid,  because  Kentucky 
lay  within  her  limits?” 

“ Then  I suppose  there  was  no  sale,”  replied  Charles, 
“if  the  company  had  no  right  to  buy.” 

“But,”  said  Girty,  with  a malicious  smile,  “Virginia 
says  the  Cherokees  had  a right  to  sell,  and,  as  they  have 
relinquished  their  title,  she  becomes  the  owner,  and  is  pre- 
paring to  take  possession.  This  will  charm  the  ears  of  the 
Cherokees.” 

Charles  had  not  heard  of  these  transactions,  and  they 
might  be  as  Girty  said;  and,  if  so,  the  hostility  of  the 
Southern  Indians  would  certainly  follow. 

“ Then  there  are  the  Delawares  and  the  Oneidas,”  said 
Charles. 

“Among  the  Delawares  whose  voice  is  strongest? — the 
Garden  Terrapin,  Bartholomew  Calvin,  or  the  Great  Mingo 
chief,  Logan,  whose  family  were  slaughtered  by  the  bloody 
Cresap  ? And  the  Oneidas  will  follow  the  rest.  Time  will 
array  them  all  against  the  Colonies.” 

“ I did  not  come  hither,  Girty,”  said  Charles,  “to  listen 
to  your  speeches.  Let  us  act.  Shall  we  fight,  or  part  in 
peace  ?” 

“ This  is  the  decision,  my  young  friend,  as  I would  call 
thee : — The  white  maiden,  and  the  party  that  pursued  her 
captors,  to  return  to  their  homes  in  Jersey,  if  you  vyill 


140 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


remain  and  wed  the  Brown  Thrush,  and  swear  never  to 

lift  hand  or  voice  against  the  Indians ; or ” 

“ Let  me  hear  the  alternative!”  said  Charles,  seeing 
Girty  hesitated  ; “ for  that  will  be  the  sentence.” 

“ Or  else,”  said  Girty,  his  penetrating  eye  fixed  upon 
the  countenance  of  the  young  man,  “the  whole  party — 
rescuers  and  maiden,  the  recreant  Calvin  and  yourself, 
Gentle  Moonlight  and  the  Thrush — must  depart  imme- 
diately for  Chillicothe  and  await  the  determination  of  a 
grand  council.” 

“ Will  Thayendanegea  be  there  ?”  asked  Charles. 

“ He  will.” 

“ And  Red  Jacket?” 

“ He  will.” 

“ Then  we  will  go  to  Chillicothe.  Let  the  chiefs  meet 
around  the  council-fire  which  has  been  burning  for  ages, 
and  I will  speak  to  them.  But  I warn  you,  Girty,  not  to 
molest  us  as  we  descend  the  river !” 

“ You  are  not  to  descend  the  Ohio.  The  Queen  says 
you  might  escape  into  Virginia.  Your  course  will  be  south- 
west until  you  strike  the  head-waters  of  the  Scioto,  down 
which  you  can  float  in  canoes  to  Chillicothe.  The  Seneca 
warriors  will  follow  in  your  rear;  the  rest  of  the  Five 
Nations  will  proceed  along  the  southern  shore  of  Lake  Erie, 
on  your  right,  while  the  Tuscarawas  will  be  on  your  left.” 
6 1 care  not!”  said  Charles,  “so  they  do  not  molest  us. 
My  word  is  passed  to  meet  you  at  Chillicothe.” 

“ The  Queen  has  no  confidence  in  the  big  Scotchman 
who  has  slain  so  many  of  her  subjects.  She  recollects  him 
well  when  he  fought  on  the*Conococheague.” 

“ Then  let  her  beware  of  him,  for  I know  not  whether 
ne  will  be  a party  to  the  compact.  If  not,  you  may  pre- 
vent his  escape  if  you  can.  And  I must  also  consult  the 
white  maiden  before  the  agreement  is  ratified.  If  she  will 
not  go ” 

“ She  will  go !”  exclaimed  Julia  herself,  who  had  be- 
sought the  Indian  girl  to  conduct  her  to  the  scene  of  con- 
ference, and  had  been  led  noiselessly  round  the  cliff  to 
where  Charles  and  Girty  stood.  “Yes,  she  will  go  with 
you  to  the  grand  council-fire  at  Chillicothe.  and  she  will 
not  depart  from  the  wilderness  until  all  her  white  friends 
may  accompany  her.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


141 


Charles  signified  his  approbation  by  a proud  smile.  lie 
knew  not  whether  Julia  had  heard  the  first  proposition; 
but,  if  she  had,  it  was  quite  apparent  she  would  not  accept 
her  enfranchisement  on  the  terms  proposed. 

The  announcement  in  camp  that  they  were  in  effect  the 
prisoners  of  Queen  Esther  was  variously  received,  and 
perhaps  by  none  with  more  secret  satisfaction  than  poor 
Van  Wiggens.  Even  his  little  mongrel  cur,  that  had  ac- 
companied him,  seemed  to  wag  his  blunt  tail  in  delight;  for 
he  had  generally  received  as  many  blows  from  Mrs.  Van 
Wiggens’s  broomstick  as  his  master  got  wounds  from  her 
tongue. 

The  aunt  and  sister  of  Brandt,  now  the  Great  Sachem 
of  the  Five  Nations,  did  not  doubt  that  his  influence  would 
be  exerted  in  behalf  of  themselves  and  their  friends.  And 
David  Jones  thought  he  would  have  an  excellent  opportu- 
nity of  being  heard  by  the  representatives  of  all  the  tribes. 
But  neither  he  nor  Charles  had  correctly  estimated  the 
powers  of  Girty,  McKee,  and  Elliot,  who  represented  in  the 
wild  woods  the  military  chest  of  Great  Britain. 

The  Indians  whom  Calvin  had  induced  to  consent  to  aid 
in  the  defence  of  the  camp,  upon  being  advised  of  the 
agreement,  rose  from  their  lurking-places,  and,  after  utter- 
ing several  halloo s,  dispersed  in  pursuit  of  game.  In  vain 
the  Delawares  pleaded  with  Calvin  to  accompany  them.  He 
could  not  be  torn  away  from  the  Indian  maiden. 

Charles  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  desirous  of  hastening 
to  the  place  designated  for  the  meeting  of  the  grand 
council,  urged  forward  the  preparations  for  departure. 
The  horses  were  packed  without  delay,  and,  as  the  aunt  of 
Thayendanegea  had  quite  a number  of  extra  ones,  the 
whole  party  were  well  mounted.  But  it  was  in  vain  that 
the  Indian  women  strove  to  persuade  Julia  to  ride  as  they 
did — astride  like  the  men.  She  preferred  the  English 
custom. 

The  first  day  some  forty  miles  were  accomplished,  and 
they  encamped  on  the  Shenango  River,  selecting  a position 
susceptible  of  defence.  But  there  was  no  molestation. 
Mr.  Jones  uttered  a long  prayer  in  the  deep  solitude  of 
the  forest,  and  after  a hearty  meal  the  travellers,  all  ex- 
cepting the  sentry,  were  hushed  in  profound  repose.  But 
the  stillness  of  the  night  was  once  broken  by  the  fierce 


142 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


barking  of  Van  Wiggens’s  dog,  who  snuffed  the  prowling 
wolves.  Hugh  McSwine  wished  to  kill  him,  as  he  might 
betray  them  if  an  enemy  should  he  lurking  in  the  vicinity. 
But  this  the  honest  Dutchman  vrould  not  listen  to.  He 
took  his  “ Vatch”  in  his  arms,  and,  whenever  he  manifested 
an  inclination  to  bark  or  whine,  he  choked  him  into 
silence. 

Fortunately  there  were  no  enemies  lurking  in  the  vici- 
nity ; and  the  ne^t  morning,  after  a hearty  breakfast,  they 
resumed  the  journey.  But,  as  the  meat  had  been  consumed, 
several  of  the  most  skilful  woodsmen  were  sent  forward 
to  kill  game  for  their  next  meal.  A buffalo  they  found 
afforded  some  sport.  It  ran  in  view  of  the  main  body  of 
the  travellers  for  more  than  a mile,  and  finally  fell  in  their 
rear  within  a few7  paces  of  Peter  Shaver,  whose  ass,  scenting 
the  blood,  brayed,  as  usual,  most  vociferously. 

“ And  what  sort  of  a baste  is  that  ?”  asked  Paddy  Pence, 
who  had  been  lagging  in  company  with  Peter,  and  listen- 
ing to  a narrative  of  his  exciting  adventures  among  the 
Indians. 

“It’s  a buffalo, ” said  Peter.  “And  a fine  fat  cow.” 

“A  cowT,  you  say ! And  I wonder  if  it  gives  any  milk! 
And  who’d  milk  such  an  ugly  monster?  But  the  mate  is 
good,  for  I tasted  some  in  the  camp.” 

“ It’s  mate  was  a bull,  Paddy.  There  are  no  wild  steers 
in  these  woods ; and  the  beef  of  a bull  even  an  Indian 
wron’t  eat  unless  he’s  half  starved.” 

“ And  who  was  saying  any  thing  about  its  swateheart  ? 
You  must  be  hard  of  hearing,  though  you  and  your  baste 
have  ears  enough  for  four  men  and  sax  horses.  Mate ! — I 
said  mate !” 

u Oh,  you  .mean  meat,  I guess.  But  here  they  come  to 
skin  the  cow.” 

During  the  day  several  deer  were  slaughtered,  and 
subsequently  there  was  no  scarcity  of  provisions  in  the 
camp. 

And  Paddy  became  familiar  with  the  rattle  of  venomous 
snakes,  and,  after  repeatedly  flying  from  them,  learned  to 
kill  them  like  the  rest, — an  operation  of  easy  performance 
when  one  has  the  nerve  to  do  it,  for  they  are  very  inactive- 

One  day  Paddy,  emboldened  by  his  continued  escape 
from  the  dangers  of  the  wilderness,  borrowed  Van  Wig- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


143 


gens’s  rifle  and  sallied  forth  with  the  hunters,  to  enjoy 
some  of  the  forest  sports  which  were  described  every  night 
to  admiring  listeners.  There  was  no  danger  of  being  lost* 
as  they  were  now  following  one  of  the  small  tributaries  of 
the  Scioto,  and  he  had  only  to  keep  in  view  of  the  stream 
to  guard  against  the  possibility  of  wandering  from  the 
right  direction. 

But  he  soon  returned  to  leave  his  horse  in  charge  of 
Peter,  saying  he  would  try  it  on  foot,  as  his  “ baste”  made 
so  much  noise  dragging  its  “fut”  through  the  dry  “ laves” 
the  deer  all  ran  away  before  he  could  see  enough  of  them 
to  fire  at.  But  Paddy  strove  in  vain  to  kill  a deer.  . He 
started  several,  whose  snorting  he  could  hear  very  distinctly 
as  they  sprang  up  from  their  beds,  and  once  or  twice  he 
had  glimpses  of  the  whites  of  their  tails  as  they  leaped  over 
the  bushes ; but  they  were  gone  before  he  could  take  aim 
and  pull  trigger.  After  bestowing  some  abusive  epithets 
on  them  for  not  standing,  like  “dacent  bastes,”  to  be  shot 
at,  he  contemptuously  abandoned  the  pursuit,  and  confined 
his  attention  to  the  turkeys  which  every  now  and  then 
crossed  his  path  near  the  stream,  within  the  narrow  valley 
of.which  he  still  confined  his  wanderings. 

But  Paddy  grew  weary  at  last,  and  had  not  a single 
trophy  to  exhibit.  The  turkeys  wouldn’t  stand  fire  either ; 
and  he  thought  it  very  singular  that  a gobbler  up  in  a tree 
should  be  able  to  see,  him  first,  inasmuch  as  he  was  larger 
than  the  bird,  and  had  larger  eyes. 

He  sat  down  on  a log  beside  the  path.  It  was  growing 
late,  and  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  bathed  in  gold  the 
tree-tops  and  summits  of  the  distant  hills.  A squirrel  chat- 
tered on  a bough  above,  with  its  tail  curved  over  its  back. 
He  looked  at  Paddy,  and  Paddy  looked  at  him. 

“ The  little  baste  is  poking  his  jokes  at  me  !”  said  Paddy 
“And  if  I should  kill  him,  wouldn’t  the  boys  laugh? 
Joke  away,  my  little  crature;  I don’t  understand  yer  lingo, 
and  I’m  sure  I shouldn’t  take  offence  at  it.  But  what’s 
that  same  ?” 

Paddy  was  attracted  by  a rustling  among  the  leaves  in  a 
dense  thicket  within  a dozen  yards  of  him.  He  thought  ho 
heard  also  a sound  like  the  crushing  of  acorns  under  the 
giant  oak  that  overspread  the  thicket.  But  he  could  see 
nothing  animate,  although  the  chopping  of  nuts  continued 


144 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


at  intervals.  With  his  eyes  fixed  in  the  direction  from 
whence  the  sound  proceeded,  he  remained  perfectly  motion- 
less, bis  gun  in  readiness  to  fire,  and  his  legs  prepared  to 
run,  if  any  imminent  danger  became  apparent. 

He  knew  not  how  long  he  sat  and  watched.  But  he  could 
hear  the  men  fixing  the  tent-poles  near  a bend  of  the 
stream  some  two  hundred  paces  back ; and,  seeing  he  was 
not  likely  to  be  relieved  from  his  perilous  situation,  if  he 
were  really  in  danger,  by  the  nearer  approach  of  his  com- 
rades, he  began  to  experience  an  uncomfortable  sensation 
of  fear  creeping  up  his  back  and  gradually  lifting  his  cap 
from  his  head.  But  still  he  could  see  nothing  likely  to  do 
him  injury.  The  saucy  squirrel  only  mocked  him ; and  the 
huge  owl  that  flapped  through  the  dusky  recesses  of  the 
forest,  where  the  rays  of  the  sun  rarely  penetrated,  never 
ventured  to  assail  a man.  It  could  not  be  a panther  he 
heard,  for  that  dreadful  animal  did  not  feed  on  acorns.  A 
bear  was  not  dangerous,  as  he  learned  from  Peter  Shaver, 
unless  one  seized  her  cub.  Paddy  had  no  cub,  and  he 
resolved  not  to  touch  one  if  they  should  come  around  him 
as  abundantly  as  the  fallen  leaves. 

It  would  not  do,  however,  to  remain  thus  inactive,  and  so 
he  stooped  down  and  peered  under  the  bushes. 

“ Be  jabers  !”  said  he,  after  gazing  some  time  in  silence, 
“ I’m  not  afraid  o’  the  likes  of  you ! I’ve  twisted  the  tails 
of  too  many  pigs  in  ould  Ireland  to  run  away  from  one  in 
America,  and  with  a gun  in  my  hand  to  boot !” 

It  was  a large  white  sow,  apparently  of  great  age, 
which  had  strayed  from  the  settlements  of  the  white  man, 
escaped  the  knives  of  the  Indian  and  repelled  the  assaults 
of  the  wolf.  It  now  ceased  to  crack  the  acorns,  and  lay 
quite  still  in  its  bed  of  leaves,  for  it  had  likewise  become 
conscious  of  the  presence  of  Paddy.  It  lay  with  its  fierce 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  intruder,  as  if  partaking  of  the  fearful 
and  repellent  nature  of  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest  with 
whom  alone  it  had  been  long  associated.  But,  if  it  had  for- 
gotten the  friendly  form  of  man,  Paddy  had  not  forgotten 
the  usually  harmless  capabilities  of  the  pig,  and  so  he 
resolved  to  have  it  for  a victim,  and  as  a unique  trophy  in 
the  wilderness. 

lie  raised  his  gun  and  fired  before  getting  a steady  aim, 
and  the  ball,  striking  too  high,  glanced  along  from  the  top 


SECOND  SERIES. 


145 


of  the  animal's  head,  cutting  a furrow  through  the  roots  of 
the  bristles  and  covering  its  back  with  blood.  For  a mo* 
ment  it  was  stunned,  and  Paddy,  supposing  it  dead,  ap 
proached  with  confidence.  But,  before  he  could  seize  it,  the 
recovered  animal  rushed  toward  him  with  open  mouth. 
Paddy,  however,  was  in  his  element  in  a contest  with  a pig, 
and  so,  throwing  down  his  gun,  was  in  readiness  for  the 
assault.  He  sprang  up  with  his  feet  apart  and  descended 
on  the  back  of  the  sow,  with  his  head  toward  her  tail.  He 
clasped  his  arms  tightly  round  her  body,  and  hugged  her 
neck  with  his  legs,  so  she  could  not  turn  and  bite  him. 
But  she  could  open  her  mouth,  and  did  so,  and  squealed 
and  squeaked  terrifically,  running  along  the  path  toward 
the  encampment.  All  were  anxious  to  see  the  beast  making 
such  horrific  sounds ; and  when  the  sow  plunged  in  the 
midst  of  the  men  she  was  so  much  concealed  or  disfigured 
by  the  body  of  Paddy  that  none  of  the  spectators  could 
conjecture , for  several  minutes  what  sort  of  an  animal  it 
was.  The  squealing  was  not  strange  to  their  ears ; but 
they  did  not  suppose  a hog  could  be  found  in  a region  so 
far  from  the  dwellings  of  white  men. 

And  soon  the  ass,  getting  the  scent  of  blood,  began  to 
bray  with  all  the  power  of  his  lungs;  and  Van  Wiggens’s 
mongrel  cur,  being  the  first  to  perceive  the  true  nature  of 
the  beast,  and  true  to  his  instincts,  rushed  forward  in  the 
midst  of  the  melee , (for  the  sow  was  now  exhausted,  and 
only  turned  and  squalled,  surrounded  by  the  crowd  of  tra- 
vellers,) but,  instead  of  seizing  the  animal’s  ear,  as  he 
intended,  got  hold  of  Paddy’s  calf  by  mistake. 

“ Och,  murther  !”  cried  Paddy.  “ Take  away  the  dog  ! 
He’s  tearing  me  leg  ! Two  on  one  is  foul  play,  and  fair 
play’s  a jewel.  Take  away  your  baste  of  a cur,  Mr.  Van 
Wiggens,  or  I’ll  worry  you  when  I’m  done  with  this  chap. 
I’d  thank  you  for  the  loan  of  a knife,  Mr.  Shaver,”  he 
continued ; “ for  mine  has  dhropt  out  of  me  hilt  in  the 
tussell.”  And,  being  accommodated,  by  Peter,  Paddy  suc- 
ceeded in  cutting  the  throat  of  the  sow,  and  so  put  an  end 
to  its  squealing. 

The  sow,  being  very  fat,  was  highly  relished  by  the  men  ; 
2nd  there  was  great  abundance  of  deer  and  turkeys  killed 
by  the  hunters.  Paddy’s  knife  and  Van  Wiggens’s  gun 
were  found  where  they  had  been  dropped ; and  the  affair 

13 


146 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


of  the  sow  caused  much  merriment  when  referred  to  during 
the  remainder  of  the  journey,  which  was  accomplished 
without  further  difficulty  or  remarkable  event. 

When  the  party  reached  Chillicothe  they  were  in  advance 
of  the  Eastern  Indians;  but  quite  a number  of  Western 
chiefs  and  their  families  wTere  present.  Chillicothe  was  an 
old  Indian  town,  and  consisted  of  many  huts  of  a more 
substantial  character  than  those  generally  inhabited  by  the 
roving  children  of  the  forest.  Gentle  Moonlight  possessed 
several  of  these  houses,  of  which  her  deceased  husband  had 
been  the  proprietor,  as  well  as  a large  body  of  land  adja- 
cent to  the  village.  These  she  took  possession  of,  and  the 
whole  party  were  soon  comfortably  domiciled  in  huts  and 
tents. 

But,  as  runners  were  constantly  arriving  from  various 
directions,  the  place  was  continually  agitated  with  news, 
sometimes  encouraging  to  the  captives,  but  often  the 
reverse. 

The  Cherokees  and  Shawnees,  as  well  as  other  Western 
Indians  sojourning  at  Chillicothe,  although  they  were  very 
kind  to  the  aunt  and  sister  of  Brandt,  and  friendly  to 
Charles,  Calvin,  and  the  missionary,  Mr.  Jones,  did  not 
seem  to  regard  the  other  captives  with  the  respect  which 
had  been  hoped  for.  There  were,  besides,  a number  of  pri- 
soners from  Pennsylvania,  Virginia,  and  Kentucky,  and 
they  were  so  carefully  watched  and  securely  guarded  that 
even  the  obtuse  Peter  Shaver  could  not  avoid  the  inference 
that  peace  was  not  to  be  “ calculated”  upon. 

Among  the  prisoners  met  with  in  the  town  was  a tall, 
straight  man,  with  broad  shoulders  and  muscular  limbs, 
denoting  extraordinary  strength.  He  generally  sat  apart, 
smiling  composedly  at  the  diverting  conduct  or  amusing 
anecdotes  of  the  Indians ; or,  if  not  addressed  by  any  of 
them  or  the  object  of  their  notice,  his  eyes  were  fixed  ab- 
stractedly on  the  dark  woods  down  the  right  bank  of  the 
Scioto ; and  one  beholding  his  countenance  would  suppose 
he  longed  to  be  again  a free  rover  in  the  boundless 
wilderness. 

This  was  Daniel  Boone,  then  in  the  prime  of  manhood ; 
and  it  was  the  second  or  third  time  he  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  Indians.  He  was  a brave  man,  and  the 
Indians  loved  him.  He  was  as  good  a woodsman  as  nnv  of 


SECOND  SERIES. 


147 


their  own  chiefs,  and  they  respected  him  so  highly  that 
extraordinary  exertions  were  made  to  induce  him  to  live 
among  them  and  become  the  head  of  a great  family.  But 
he  had  already  a wife  and  children  in  Kentucky ; and,  be-' 
sides,  he  loved  the  solitudes  of  the  forest  rather  than  the 
boisterous  society  of  his  fellow-men,  whether  savage  or 
civilized. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Jones  and  Boone  had  often  met  before; 
and  the  latter  had  promised  the  preacher  that  when  they 
encountered  again,  if  there  should  be  water,  he  would  de- 
sire to  be  baptized.  And  now  the  preacher  claimed  the 
fulfilment  of  his  promise,  declaring  to  the  Indians  who 
listened  that  the  ceremony  would  afford  him  more  pleasure 
and  be  a greater  honour  in  the  sight  of  the  Good  Spirit 
than  the  taking  of  scalps  in  time  of  war.  And  Boone  did 
not  object.  His  wife  was  a Baptist.  He  had  reached  the 
meridian  of  life,  and  would  no  longer  postpone  the  per- 
formance of  a sacred  duty. 

And  so,  on  the  third  day  after  the  arrival  of  the  party  at 
Chiliicothe,  the  banks  of  the  Scioto  were  lined  with  Indians, 
men,  (old  men  mostly,)  women,  and  children,  to  witness  the 
baptism  by  immersion  of  “ Captain  Boone.”  But  Mr. 
Jones  had  not  usually  been  in  the  habit  of  going  down  into 
the  water  with  a solitary  convert,  nor  tvas  he  under  the 
necessity  of  doing  so  on  that  occasion.  The  aged  Tam- 
many, a chief  of  the  Western  Delawares,  who  had  ever  been 
his  friend,  stood  beside  him  on  the  margin  of  the  water, 
prepared  to  submit  to  the  ordinance  prescribed  for  the  sal- 
vation of  sinners.  Priests  of  other  denominations  had 
proposed  other  modes  of  baptism ; but  the  plan  of  Mr.  Jones, 
who  had  been  most  instrumental  in  his  conversion,  seemed 
appropriate  to  the  Indian,  and  very  similar  to  a ceremony 
of  their  own  in  washing  away  the  blood  of  another  race. 

Nor  Were  the  enthusiastic  Baptist’s  labours  to  end  with 
Tammany — who  subsequently  became  a saint;  but  Gentle 
Moonlight  and  Brown  Thrush  likewise  consented  to  go 
down  with  him  into  the  water  and  take  upon  themselves 
the  Christian’s  vows.  Mr.  Jones  did  not  require  any  extra- 
ordinary sacrifices.  Their  great  Ha-wen-no-yu,  he  said, 
was  but  another  name  for  the  Christian’s  God,  their  Kacha 
Manito  the  Christian’s  Holy  Spirit,  and  Malcha  Manito 
the  devil.  The  latter  they  must  cease  praying  to  to  punish 


148 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


their  enemies,  as  the  God  of  the  Christians  could  destroy 
as  well  as  preserve.  Although  with  them  this  was  not 
quite  an  admitted  axiom,  yet  they  promised  to  follow  the 
instructions  of  their  Christian  guide.  And  Boone  himself 
stipulated  that  he  was  not  to  be  turned  out  of  the  church 
for  the  occasional  epithets — called  oaths — which  sometimes 
escaped  him,  and  of  which  he  might  be  unconscious.  It 
was  a fixed  habit,  and  he  was  too  old  to  correct  it.  In 
short,  Mr.  Jones  did  not  require  of  his  Indian  converts 
any  other  change  of  life  than  to  believe  in  the  plan  of  re- 
demption he  taught,  and  to  conform  to  the  few  precepts  he 
strove  to  impress  upon  their  minds.  They  might  be  great 
warriors  and  chiefs  and  at  the  same  time  Very  good  Chris- 
tians. And  Boone  might  go  on  killing  game  and  scalping 
his  enemies  as  usual. 

Charles  and  Julia  were  silent  spectators  of  the  scene, 
which  was  solemn  and  impressive.  The  Sabbath  day  wras 
unclouded,  and  not  a breeze  ruffled  the  surface  of  the  water. 
With  a becoming  gravity  of  face,  a dignified  step,  and  the 
song  of  praise  issuing  from  his  mouth,  the  preacher  wrent 
down  into  the  water ; and,  the  requisite  responses  being 
uttered,  and  no  one  forbidding,  the  ceremony  of  baptism 
by  immersion  was  duly  performed. 

“Now,  Charles, ” said  Julia,  “what  good  effect  will  that 
produce  ?” 

“They  believe,  ” said  Charles.  “ They  rely  implicitly 
upon  the  truth  of  what  Mr.  Jones  has  spoken.  He  has 
said  there  can  be  no  salvation  without  baptism,  according 
to  the  Scriptures.  They  believe  it,  and  are  baptized.  There 
will  be  no  important  change  in  their  conduct.  My  forest 
mother  and  sister  were  ever  good  and  guileless.” 

“And  now^,  Charles,  the  Thrush  is  a Christian!” 

“Yes,  but  still  an  Indian.  Why  do  you  seem  distressed ?” 

“ These  terrible  rumours!”  said  she,  as  they  slowly  fol- 
lowed the  dripping  converts  returning  to  their  wigwams. 
“ What  is  to  become  of  us  ? I might  have  escaped  from 
my  captors,  but  I thought  you  would  soon  return  with  me, 
and  I was  impelled  by  a love  of  romantic  adventure.  I 
thought  it  would  soon  be  over,  and  never  dreamed  of  actual 
danger  and  real  vexations.  But  they  have  brought  me 
still  farther  into  the  boundless  forest,  I know  not  how 
many  hundreds  of  miles  away  from ” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


149 


u From  whom,  Julia?  You  have  no  kindred  on  earth 
that  you  know  of,  and  no  better  friend  than  myself.” 

“ True.  But  will  I not  lose  my  best  friend  ? Is  he  not 
surrounded  by  enemies  ?” 

“We  will  escape,  Julia,”  said  he,  in  a low  tone,  (fcr 
James  Girty,  the  brother' of  Simon,  was,  as  usual,  standing 
near  them,  and  probably  endeavouring  to  learn  the  subject 
of  their  conversation.)  “ Mr.  Boone,”  he  added,  “has 
planned  it,  and  will  accompany  us.  He  has  learned  that 
the  Indians  intend  making  a hostile  visit  to  Kentucky,  and 
we  will  be  there  to  receive  them.” 

“Kentucky!  still  farther  into  the  Western  wilds!”  said 
Julia,  with  a sigh,  which  indicated  that  her  love  of  forest 
adventure,  of  which  she  had  often  boasted  in  her  letters  to 
Kate  Livingston,  was  rapidly  abating. 

“Once  there,  Julia,  we  will  be  free.  We  will  be  no 
longer  subjected  to  the  tyrannical  caprices  of  Queen  Esther, 
who,  I learn  from  the  Seneca  that  came  in  this  morning, 
declares  I must  either  wed  my  Indian  sister  or  else  re- 
main a prisoner.’' 

“ Will  not  the  Indian  maiden  and  her  aunt  go  with  us  ?” 
“No.  At  least  such  is  not  the  intention.  If  war  ensues, 
as  I fear  it  will, — for  the  British  agent  here  has  arms,  am- 
munition, trinkets,  and  money,  to  distribute  gratuitously, 
and  the  Americans,  not  being  similarly  represented,  are 
looked  upon  by  my  silly  red  brethren  with  contempt, — they 
would  not  be  permitted  to  dwell  among  us.” 

“Then  let  us  go!  I fear  your  forest  sister  will  do  some 
dreadful  deed.” 

“Why?” 

“ She  speaks  fiercely  and  gesticulates  violently  in  her 
dreams.” 

“ She  dreamed  of  war, — of  her  brother,  no  doubt,  and 
thought  he  was  slaughtering  her  Christian  friends.  No; 
she  will  never  injure  you.  She  might  have  committed 
violence  on  her  own  life,  had  not  Mr.  Jones  told  her  it 
would  be  a fatal  crime  and  bar  her  entrance  into  the 
perennial  paradise.” 

“ Let  us  depart  immediately!”  continued  Julia.  “Oh, 
let  us  go  before  the  grand  council  of  warriors  assemble  ! 
I know  they  will  declare  war.  Indeed,  as  Mr.  Jones  said 
last  night,  when  the  party  came  in  from  the  Monongahela, 
* is* 


150 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


their  approach  announced  bj  the  terrible  scalp-halloo, 
which  still  sounds  in  my  ears,  war  has  already  begun! 
And  the  horrid  spectacle  of  human  scalps,  stretched  on 
hoops,  drying  in  view  of  our  tent!  It  is  too  dreadful !” 

“ I know  it.  But  control  your  emotions,  Julia.  Do  not 
seem  agitated  and  shocked  by  such  exhibitions  during  the 
next  few  days.  I did  not  like  to  announce  the  startling 
tidings  that  have  reached  us,  for  fear  we  might  be  be- 
trayed by  our  feelings.  But  it  is  too  true  that  the  toma- 
hawk has  fallen  on  the  heads  of  our  people  in  some  of  the 
frontier  settlements,  and  Mr.  Boone  is  convinced  that  the 
Dive  Nations  will  carry  the  Western  tribes  with  them  to 
the  British.  We  must  be  discreet,  and  apparently  indif- 
ferent to  the  occurrences  around  us ; and  soon  we  will  be 
beyond  the  reach  of  our  enemies.  Be  in  readiness  to  fly  at 
any  hour  of  the  night.  Boone  will  plan  every  thing.” 

“ And  will  they  not  pursue  us  ?” 

“ Certainly.  But  our  party  will  number  some  twenty- 
five  well-armed  men,  as  other  prisoners  will  go  with  us; 
and  we  will  be  able  to  keep  the  foe  at  bay  until  we  cross 
the  Ohio.  Most  of  the  warriors  here  are,  as  you  see,  old 
men.  Boone  is  advised  of  the  movements  of  those  more 
active,  now  lingering  on  the  Little  Miami,  where  #iey  have 
fallen  in  with  a large  herd  of  buffalo.  We  will  have  the 
start  of  them,  as  their  runners  will  give  notice  of  their 
approach  and  announce  their  success.  In  the  mean  time 
wre  must  do  nothing  to  excite  suspicion.” 

“But  why  not  go  at  once? — to-night?” 

“ Some  of  our  men  are  unarmed.  We  must  contrive  to 
supply  the  deficiency  from  the  British  depot,  and  Boone  will 
devise  the  means.  We  must  employ  stratagem,  and  keep 
the  boys  and  old  men  in  good  humour.  They  are,  as  you 
may  have  observed,  exceedingly  fond  of  diverting  scenes ; 
and  Boone,  though  seemingly  incapable  of  smiling  himself, 
is  preparing  an  exhibition  for  this  afternoon  which  will 
amuse  them.  He  has  had  Paddy  Pence  and  Peter  Shaver 
looking  at  the  bloody  scalps,  and  informed  them  (confi- 
dentially) that  the  only  sure  method  of  avoiding  a similar 
fate  is  to  be  adopted  into  an  Indian  family.  They  have 
most  eagerly  consented,  and  an  old  squaw,  the  widow  of  a 
Choctaw  warrior,  has  agreed  to  receive  one  of  them  as  her 
husband  and  the  other  as  a son.  The  ceremony  of  initio- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


151 


tion  will  take  place  this  evening  before  the  assembled  popu- 
lation of  the  village.  Boone  will  be  more  popular  than 
ever,  and  they  will  cause  the  Englishman  to  give  the  adopted 
couple  two  good  rifles.  And  Hugh  McSwine,  though  so 
silent  and  grave,  is  heartily  co-operating.  His  Scots  will 
assume  the  Indian  costume,  indicating  a purpose  to  undergo 
the  ceremony  of  initiation  as  soon  as  Indians  can  be  found 
to  adopt  them.  Poor  Van  Wiggens  would,  I believe,  pre- 
fer living  among  them  to  returning  to  his  scolding  wife. 
He,  too,  will  probably  be  adopted  to-day.  Go  now  and 
cheer  my  poor  sister.  Tell  her  I am  much  pleased  with 
her,  and  that  I hope  our  heavenly  Father  will  permit  us  to 
dwell  together  in  paradise,  never  to  be  separated  more.” 

Julia  had  scarcely  entered  the  house  of  Gentle  Moon- 
light when  Charles  heard  the  halloo  of  a small  party  of 
warriors  returning  from  the  South.  From  the  sounds,  he 
understood  they  had  a prisoner  and  one  scalp. 

He  soon  after  saw  a young  man  of  herculean  frame  led 
into  the  town.  He  was  not  made  to  run  the  gauntlet,  for 
as  yet  war  had  not  been  formally  declared,  although  it 
certainly  existed.  The  prisoner’s  name  was  Simon  Kenton, 
who,  on  subsequent  occasions,  suffered  much  harsh  usage 
at  the  hands  of  the  Indians,  and  has  since  figured  in  several 
romances.  But,  as  this  is  a plain  narrative  of  facts,  we 
will  not  make  any  draughts  on  the  imagination.  He  was  a 
young  man  without  education,  an  excellent  shot,  a good 
woodsman,  a brave  scout,  honest  and  generous.  But  he 
deemed  it  no  disgrace  to  steal  horses  from  the  Indians,  and 
had  just  been  taken  in  the  act. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  CEREMONY"  OF  ADOPTION. 

The  procession  approached  the  river,  passing  by  the 
skin  tents  and  log  houses  on  its  line  of  march,  the  route 
having  been  planned  to  please  the  greatest  possible  number. 
The  head  of  the  column  was  led  by  Diving  Duck,  (the  mean- 
ing of  her  Indian  name,  its  orthography  forgotten,)  who 


152 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


was  to  adept  Paddy  and  Peter  into  her  family.  This  old 
squaw  was  a worthless  creature,  having  never  lived  happily 
with  her  husband,  and  had  always  been  addicted  to  immo- 
derate* drinking. 

Next  to  Diving  Duck  came  Peter  Shaver,  mounted  on  his 
jackass  and  surrounded  by  all  the  boys.  Every  now  and 
then  some  one  would  hold  a piece  of  raw  meat  to  the  ass’s 
nose,  and  then  he  brayed.  This  was  succeeded  by  pro- 
longed laughter,  which,  beginning  wTith  the  boys,  spread 
like  an  epidemic  through  all  classes  up  to  the  most  stoical 
octogenarian. 

Paddy  followed  immediately  behind  the  ass,  and  was  ac- 
companied by  Van  Wiggens  and  his  dog.  The  Scots  and 
other  white  prisoners  were  farther  in  the  rear,  serving  to 
lengthen  the  procession. 

When  they  arrived  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  Peter  dis- 
mounted, and  his  ass  was  led  away  braying  by  one  of  the 
boys  having  raw  meat  or  pepper-corns. 

“And  now,”  said  Paddy,  “ before  we  go  any  furder 
in  this  family  bisness,  I wud  like  to  be  towld  what  I am 
to  be.” 

“ You  are  to  be  an  Indian,”  said  Charles,  who  acted  as 
interpreter. 

“I  knowT  that,  Misther  Charles,”  said  Paddy.  “ But,  I 
mane,  what  am  X to  be  in  the  family  ? Am  I to  be  the 
black  old  Didapper’s  son  or  husband?” 

Charles,  after  speaking  to  the  squaw,  said  she  was  not 
yet  prepared  to  announce  the  lucky  man  of  her  choice. 

“ She  manes,”  said  Paddy,  musing  painfully,  “to  take 
us  both  on  trial.  Tell  her,  Mr.  Charles,  I won’t  gd  into 
her  family  until  I know  what  futting  I am  to  go  on.” 

“ Paddy,  she  wishes  to  know  the  position  you  would 
prefer.” 

“Position?  Och,  she  manes  sitiation  ! Say  SON,  by 
all  manes,  and  board  and  mending;  I’ll  saa  after  the 
wrages  widout  her  assistance.” 

“And  what  would  you  be,  Peter?”  asked  Charles. 

“ I guess  any  thing  rather  than  be  sculped,”  said  Peter. 
“ But  you  will  please  make  the  best  bargain  for  me  you 
can.  Although  I’d  rather  be  her  husband  than  die  at  the 
stake,  I rather  think  I would  prefer  dying  any  easy  way 
ihan  to  marry  such  an  ugly  infernal  old ” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


153 


“ Howld  yer  tongue  !”  cried  Paddy,  furiously.  “ Would 
ye  be  afther  having  that  translated  till  her?  Would  ye 
have  her  to  be  scratching  yer  nasty  piebald  face  here  in 
this  company?  To  be  sure  ye  would ! And  thin  you  think 
she  wouldn’t  have  ye,  and  be  afther  taking  me,  do  ye  ? 
And  that  would  be  one  of  yer  Yankee  tricks,  would  it  ? 

It’s  dishonest!  it’s  ungintlemanly ! it’s rascality!  to 

take  advantage  of  a rival  in  that  fashion  ! And,  if  ye  was 
to  succeed,  I’d  pound  yer  head  to  a jelly  with  me  two  fists. 
And  then  to  talk  about  dying  in  any  aisy  way!  I would 
like  to  know  the  difference  atwane  dying  by  having  the 
breath  burnt  out,  bled  out,  drownded  out,  or  physicked  out  ? 
Dying  aisy,  is  it  ?” 

Now,  Charles  had  rapidly  translated  such  portions  of  this 
speech  as  best  suited  his  purpose,  which,  together  with 
Paddy’s  menacing  attitude  and  gestures,  produced  a prodi- 
gious burst  of  merriment.  Even  the  young  prisoner,  Simon 
Kenton,  whose  arms  were  stretched  asunder  and  made  fast 
by  thongs  to  a strong  stake  that  ran  across  his  breast, 
laughed  so  heartily  (for  he  had  a sound  pair  of  lungs)  as  to 
attract  general  attention.  Boone,  taking  advantage  of  this, 
and  seeming  to  be  an  entire  stranger  to  the  tall  captive, 
(although  'they  were  intimate  friends,)  remarked  to  one  of 
the  warriors  that  no  man  could  laugh  without  pain  when 
bound  in  that  manner ; and,  the  good-humour  of  the  latter 
preponderating  over  his  prudence,  he  drew  his  knife  and 
liberated  the  captive’s  arms. 

Diving  Duck,  comprehending  what  had  passed  between 
Paddy  and  Peter,  turned  her  ugly  face  toward  the  latter 
and  uttered  a torrent  of  vituperation  which  it  would  have 
been  difficult  for  Charles  to  render  into  intelligible  English  ; 
but  the  purport  of  it  could  hardly  have  been  mistaken  even 
by  a dog.  And  Van  Wiggens’s  little  mongrel  cur  retreated 
a few  paces  and  barked  at  the  virago,  no  doubt  detecting 
some  resemblance  between  her  and  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens. 

“And  that’s  the  reward  you  get  for  blabbing  in  that 
undacent  way,”  said  Paddy.  “ Och ! you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yerself!” 

This  little  speech  being  made  known  to  the  squaw,  she 
approached  Paddy  with  a ghastly  grin,  meant,  no  doubt, 
for  a grateful  smile,  and,  taking  his  hand,  called  him  her 
husband. 


151 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“What  does  she  mane  by  that?”  asked  Paddy. 

“She  says,”  continued  Charles,  “that  she  thanks  you 
for  resenting  the  vile  aspersions  of  the  Yankee  Popcorn,  the 
chief  of  the  asses,  and  a thousand  other  pleasant  things  I 
am  unable  to  translate  ill  this  modest  company.  And,  as 
a slight  manifestation  of  her  gratitude,  she  is  determined  to 
bestow  her  hand  upon  you.” 

“Murther!  how  am  I to  get  out  of  this  scrape?  I'll 
give  you  a broken  head,  Misther  Pater  Shaver,  for  yer  foul 
play.  You’re  a vile  chating  rival,  and,  be  the  sowl  of  St. 
Patrick,  ye  shall  not  succade  ! Be  the  powers,  ye  shall 
marry  her  or  burn  ! Misther  Charles,  tell  ’em  to  tie  me  to 
the  stake ; for  I’m  ready  to  die,  aisy  or  hard,  jist  as  they 
plase.  I wont  be  a blackguard  savage  and  the  towl  of  a 
little  fat  nose-talking  Yankee  ! Let  us  both  burn  together 


at  the  same  stake,  as  me  Catholic  ancestors  did  in  the  time 
of  Elizabeth,  who  was  nicknamed  the  Yargin  Quane.  The 
Holy  Yargin  preserve  us  ! It  sames  that  the  whole  family 
of  Pences  are  to  be  the  victims  of  the  women ! Tell  ’em 
to  pile  up  their  fagots  ! Grane  ones  will  do.  The  grase 
of  my  fat  companion  will  make  ’em  burn.  And  when  we 
are  both  wrapped  in  the  flames,  Pater,”  he  continued, 
doubling  his  fists  and  assuming  a boxing  attitude,  “ I’ll 
give  you  a taste  of  the  science  by  way  of  dessert  to  the 
fry!” 

This,  too,  when  interpreted  to  the  Indians,  produced 
peals  of  laughter,  and  the  old  chiefs  patted  Paddy’s  back, 
calling  him  a brave  man. 

“ I would  have  been  a dutiful  son  to  ye,”  continued 
Paddy,  moved  to  tears,  “and  maintained  ye  at  yer  aise; 
and,  instead  of  being  grateful,  you  must  be  calling  me  mo- 
tlier  names.  No  ! I won’t  be  the  father  of  any  sich  a vile 
varmint !” 

“Paddy!”  said  Peter,  moved  by  the  tears,  for  they  con- 
vinced him  he  was  in  earnest,  “ oh,  Paddy,  say  no  more 
about  burning ! I’ll  save  you  from  that.  I’ll  marry  her 
rather  than  die.  I guess  I can  manage  her.  I’ll  marry 
her,  Paddy!” 

“ Then  I shall  be  bound  to  pay  you  riverence.  And,  in 
the  first  place,  I beg  yer  pardon  for  what  I have  said  to 
your  disparagement,  and  take  it  all  back  agin.” 

This  being  rendered  into  the  Indian  tongue,  Diving  Duck 


SECOND  SERIES. 


155 


became*  more  furious  than  ever,  and  said  they  should  both 
burn,  as  she  would  not  marry  either  of  them. 

Then  Peter,  amid  shouts  of  laughter,  got  down  on  his 
knees  and  humbly  begged  her  to  pardon  him  and  accept  his 
hand. 

“ You  see  what  it  is,”  said  Paddy,  kneeling  behind  Peter, 
“ for  a woman  to  have  two  strings  to  her  bow.  Kape  at 
her,  Pater;  she’ll  yeald  prisently.  Depind  upon  it,  she’ll 
not  let  ye  die  if  she’s  to  lose  a husband  by  it.” 

And  Peter,  persisting,  received  a blow  on  the  side  of  his 
face  which  sent  him  sprawling  on  the  earth. 

“ What  do  ye  mane  by  trating  me  rispicted  father  in  that 
ungintlemanly  manner?”  cried  Paddy,  springing  up  and 
seizing  the  old  squaw,  whom  he  held  securely  by  the  arms 
in  despite  of  her  kicks  and  cries,  to  the  infinite  amusement 
of  the  crowd.  “If  you  are  to  be  me  mother  I must  tache 
ye  betther  manners.  And  is  this  an  example  to  sit  before 
the  face  of  yer  childer  ? Is  this  the  sort  of  brading  ye 
would  bring  yer  darlint  son  up  to  ? Ye  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yerself!” 

And  the  Didapper  uttered  two  words  to  Paddy’s  one. 
But,  when  he  relinquished  his  hold,  Charles  announced  to 
the  disappointed  multitude  that  the  ceremony  of  fire  would 
have  to  be  substituted  for  that  of  water,  as  Diving  Duck 
would  have  neither  of  them  for  her  husband. 

At  this  juncture  Yan  Wiggens,  who  had  been  a contem- 
plative spectator  of  the  scene,  stepped  forward  and  whis- 
pered to  Charles  that,  although  he  did  not  fear  burning  at 
the  stake  half  so  much  as  he  did  the  scathing  tongue  of 
Mrs.  “ Wan  Viggens,”  if  it  would  not  be  bigamy  and  sub- 
ject him  to  the  penalty  of  the  law,  he  was  willing  to  save 
his  two  friends  from  death  by  becoming  himself  their 
father  and  the  husband  of  the  furious  squaw. 

When  this  was  announced  to  Diving  Duck,  she  scrutinized 
the  Dutchman  very  carefully,  and,  after  walking  round 
mm  as  if  examining  the  limbs  of  a horse,  signified  her 
willingness  to  accept  him  as  a substitute,  provided  he  would 
whip  both  of  his  sons  after  the  wedding. 

To  this  condition  both  Paddy  and  Peter  readily  con- 
sented, and  the  squaw  then  grasped  the  hand  of  her 
affianced  lord.  But  the  little  stump-tailed  mongrel  cur  of 
Van  Wiggens  seemed  to  have  some  objection  to  the  arrange* 


156 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES! 


rnent,  and  flew  round,  barking  fiercely  at  the  squaw,  who  paid 
no  further  attention  to  his  violence  than  to  seize  him  by  the 
back  of  his  neck  and  cast  him  over  the  bank  into  the  river, 
whence  he  speedily  swam  ashore,  cowed  into  submission. 

“ Tam  her!  he  thought  it  was  Mrs.  WanViggens  !”  said 
the  Dutchman. 

All  the  preliminaries  being  adjusted,  six  young  Indian 
girls,  supposed  from  their  stature  to  be  about  midway  in 
their  teens,  came  gliding  forward.  Each  of  them  grasped 
a hand  of  the  three  candidates  for  adoption,  and  led  them 
down  the  river-bank  and  along  the  edge  of  the  water  to  a 
gigantic  sycamore,  whose  broad  leaves,  though  deeply  red- 
dened by  the  early  frosts,  yet  hung  over  the  stream  and 
intercepted  the  rays  of  the  descending  sun.  The  great 
crowd  of  Indians  posted  themselves  a short  distance  apart, 
where  they  could  see  the  operation  of  initiation  to  the 
greatest  advantage.  Boone  and  Charles,  however,  attended 
the  candidates  under  the  tree. 

“ You  must  submit  without  resistance,”  said  Boone,  ad- 
dressing the  men ; “ for,  if  you  do  not  comply  with  their 
demands,  you  will  not  be  considered  perfect  Indians/’ 

“Be  the  powers,”  said  Paddy,  looking  to  his  right  and 
his  left,  “such  cratures  as  these  don’t  same  as  if  they  meant 
to  do  us  any  harm.  But,  if  ye  plase,  Misther  Bone,  I’d 
take  it  as  a favour  if  you’d  tell  me  what  they  mane  to  do 
wid  us  in  the  wather.” 

“No  matter  what:  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  obey  them 
in  every  particular,”  was  the  reply. 

“ And  they  mane  to  go  in  wid  us  ?”  continued  Paddy. 

“ Certainly,”  said  Charles  ; “ don’t  you  see  they  are  pre- 
pared to  do  so?” 

Paddy  examined  the  costume  of  the  girls,  which  consisted 
merely  of  blankets  and  narrow  breech-cloths.  Their  leggins 
and  moccasins  had  been  left  behind. 

The  Indian  maids  proceeded,  according  to  the  usual  custom 
with  candidates  for  adoption,  to  disencumber  the  men  of 
their  clothing. 

Peter  Shaver,  being  in  Indian  costume,  was  easily  dis- 
robed,— one  of  the  girls  removing  his  blanket,  while  the 
other  undid  his  moccasins  and  leggins,  leaving  nothing  but 
his  breech  cloth, — a sort  of  apron  going  round  the  body 
above  the  hips  and  reaching  nearly  to  the  knees. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


157 


The  girls  were  exceedingly  amused  and  interested.  Pe- 
ter’s corpulency,  and  his  very  white  skin  where  the  sun  had 
not  shone  upon  it  and  where  the  dust  of  travel  had  not 
accumulated,  particularly  arrested  their  attention. 

Peter  had  been  so  much  among  the  Indians  of  late,  assi- 
milating with  their  habits,  that  he  did  not  think  of  blushing 
at  the  exposure  of  his  neck,  shoulders,  breast,  and  knees. 

It  was  different  with  Paddy  and  Yan  Wiggens.  They 
submitted  in  silence  to  the  removal  of  their  coats,  and  even 
their  shirts,  and  stood  with  all  the  indifference  they  could 
command,  like  pugilists  prepared  for  encounter  in  the  lists. 

44  Mr.  Bone  ! Mr.  Bone  !”  whispered  Paddy  at  this  stage 
of  the  proceedings,  “plase  tell  ’em  we  haven’t  got  any 
breech-clouts  on.” 

They  seemed  to  be  aware  of  this,  and  proceeded  to  re- 
move only  the  moccasins  and  leggins,  rolling  up  their 
breeches,  however,  and  exposing  their  legs  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. 

44  You  must  submit  without  complaining,”  remarked 
Charles,  with  a seriousness  wrell  affected,  when  the  girls 
again  seized  their  hands  and  led  them  toward  the  edge  of 
the  water. 

44  Complainin’,  did  ye  say?”  responded  Paddy;  44  and  if 
it’s  killing  they’re  going  to  do,  ye  may  be  sure  we’ll  die  an 
aisy  death.  Mr.  Bone,  if  you  are  acquainted  wid  the 
parents  of  these  girls,  you’d  do  me  a favour  to  bespake  one 
of  ’em — and  be  me  faith  you  may  include  both — for  me,  as 
soon  as  we  are  turned  to  savages.  And  if  there  are  no 
praists  to  marry  us,  Mr.  Jones  might  do  till  Ave  could  find 
one.” 

46  The  Indians  will  let  you  have  as  many  wives  as  you 
can  support,”  said  Mr.  Boone;  44 but  the  priest  would  ban 
you  if  you  had  more  than  one.” 

44 1 know  it ! But  do  ye  think  he’d  curse  a man  afther 
he’d  turned  Indian  ? He  would  marry  me  to  one  and  I’d 
marry  meself  to  the  other.  Like  a good  Christian,  I’d  have 
one  lawfully-wedded  wife,  and,  like  an  Indian,  I’d  have 
anither  which  the  praist’d  have  no  business  to  meddle 
wid.  It’s  forward,  is  it,  me  darlints  ? On  wid  ye  ! I can 
stand  in  as  dape  water  as  any  o’  ye,”  he  continued,  as  he 
was  led  into  the  stream. 

They  waded  out  until  the  water  rose  to  the  shoulders  of 

14 


158 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


the  girls,  and  then  commenced  the  process  of  scrubbing. 
Each  of  the  maidens  had  taken  into  the  water  the  cob  of 
an  ear  of  Indian  corn,  with  which  they  rasped  the  breasts 
and  limbs  of  the  white. men. 

“Mr.  Bone,’,  cried  Paddy,  “what  d’ye  think  they’re 
rubbing  us  for  ? There’s  no  flays  under  the  water  to  bite 
us.” 

“But  dere’s  a tarn  crawTfish  biting  my  leg,”  said  Van 
Wiggens,  “and  I wish  dey’d  rub  furder  down.” 

“You  needn’t  rub  me  so  hard,”  said  Peter  to  his  at- 
tendants. “I’m  almost  an  Indian  now.  Don’t  you  know 
they  made  me  a chief?” 

“Popcorn!  chief!”  said  one  of  his  girls,  who  could  speak 
a few  English  words. 

“Murther!”  cried  Paddy. 

“Are  they  hurting  you?”  asked  Charles. 

“ Hurting,  is  it  ? It’s  tackling  one  to  death  ! What  are 
they  rubbing  us  for?” 

“Ask  them,”  said  Boone ; “ they  can  answer  in  English, 
and  have  been  taught  our  language  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
plaining such  things.” 

“My  most  lovely  and  beautiful  miss, — and  there’s  a 
charming  pair  o’  ye,  as  much  alike  as  two  cherries, — be 
plased  to  tell  me  what’re  ye  rubbing  the  small  of  me  back 
for?” 

“Wash  white  blood  away,”  was  the  answer 

“ White  blood,  is  it  ? Be  my  sowl,  ye’re  mistaken,  for 
it’s  as  red  as  a rose.” 

“ White  man’s  blood — wash  away — Indian’s  blood  come.” 

“Now  I understhand ! And  ye’re  a charming  one  to  do 
it!  And  she  spakes  as  good  English  as  Paddy  himself ! 
And  won’t  you  be  me  swate  little  wife?  Och,  murther!” 
cried  he,  turning  to  the  other,  “ you  naadn’t  tear  me  flesh 
away,  for  I meant  to  take  both  of  ye.” 

“Dey  ton’t  know  enough  of  English  to  scold,”  said  the 
contemplative  Van  Wiggens,  “ and  I’ll  marry  one  too.  Do 
you  scold?”  he  asked  of  one  of  his  scrubbers. 

“Me  no  talk.  Diying  Duck  talk  much,”  she  replied, 
smiling  mischievously. 

“ Tam  te"  old  Titapper  !”  said  Van  Wiggens  ; “ I forgot 
her.  She’s  an  old  granny  of  sixty.  I’m  only  dirty,  and 
Mrs.  Wan  Viggens  is  dirty-two.  I vant  a young  vife  ” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


159 


“Why  arc  you  so  silent,  Peter?”  asked  Charles,  ob- 
serving the  Connecticut  man  plunged  in  deep  abstraction. 

“ I guess  I’ll  stop  at  that,”  said  Peter,  endeavouring  to 
thrust  aside  his  attendants.  “Maybe  there’s  more  in  this 
operation  than  we  are  aware  of.  By  water  our  sins  are 
washed  away,  and  we  are  made  Christians.  This  may  be 
an  invention  of  the  devil  to  wash  away  Christianity  and 
make  us  hisn.” 

“Och,  murther!”  cried  Paddy.  “Begone,  ye  divil’s 
imps  ! ’scat,  ye  witches  !”  continued  he,  and  by  a powerful 
effort  succeeded  in  thrusting  the  girls  momentarily  away 
from  him,  to  the  great  diversion  of  the  spectators  on  the 
bank,  whose  silence  hitherto  indicated  that  they  were 
awaiting  some  such  scene. 

“Me  wash  good!  Hold  still!”  said  one  of  the  girls, 
returning. 

“ No ! ’scat ! Begone ! or  I’ll  drownd  ye  like  blind  pup- 
pies. It’s  a contrivance  to  sell  our  sowls  for  the  price  of 
our  bodies  ! And  I wont  be  a savage  widout  I can  be  a 
civilized  Catholic  Christian  too.” 

“Oh,  you  may  be  a Christian,”  said  Charles,  “if  you 
can  be  content  to  put  up  with  one  wife.” 

“ I’ll  do  it,  and  defy  the  divil !”  said  Paddy;  “ and  I’ll 
draw  lots  betwixt  ’em.  Hillo !”  he  continued,  seeing  the 
girls  dragging  him  and  his  companions  into  still  deeper 
water.  “Don’t  do  that!  It’s  up  to  me  breast  now,  and 
it’ll  soon  be  over  yer  heads.  It  wouldn’t  be  safe,  me 
darlints,  to  go  in  ony  daaper.  Hillo,  I say  ! It’s  up  to  me 
chin,  and  the  divil’s  daughters  are  swamming  like  bavers. 
Stop,  I tell  ye  ! Would  ye  drownd  yer  future  husband  ? 
I can’t  swame ! I tell  ye  I can’t  swame !”  And  when 
Paddy  uttered  this  earnest  protestation  he  had  to  hold 
back  his  head  to  keep  his  nose  above  water. 

“ Wash  all  white  blood  out ! Wash  head  too  !”  said  the 
girls ; and,  making  a simultaneous  effort,  they  succeeded  at 
the  same  moment  in  pushing  the  heads  of  all  three  beneath 
the  surface.  Then,  springing  nimbly  aside,  (for  they  were 
skilf  il  swimmers,)  they  laughed  very  heartily,  while  the 
spectators  on  the  shore  made  the  welkin  ring  with  theii 
plaudits. 

“I  guess  that’ll  do,  won’t  it  ?”  cried  Peter,  popping  up 
again  and  expelling  a stream  of  water  frpm  his  mouth. 


ICO 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ Murther  !”  cried  Paddy,  rising,  puffing  and  floundering 
like  a porpoise.  “ Me  swate  lovely  gals!”  said  he,  after 
succeeding  in  fixing  his  toes  in  the  sand  at  the  bottom,  and 
keeping  his  mouth  and  nose  an  inch  above  the  surface,  but 
unable  to  see  the  shore,  and  incapable  of  proceeding  in  any 
direction  without  danger  of  submersion,  “ och,  me  swato 
cratures,  I’ll  marry  ayther  of  ye,  or  both  thegither,  as 
soon  as  ye  plase,  if  ye’ll  only  pull  me  out  o’  this !” 

“ Tam  dem !”  roared  the  Dutchman,  rising  the  last  of 
the  three,  and,  being  able  to  swim,  struck  for  the  shore. 
But  he  was  seized  by  his  attendants  and  forcibly  thrust 
under  again. 

“ Tam  der  skins !”  he  continued,  rising  again  and  facing 
Lis  tormentors.  They  seized  his  hands,  and  he  endea- 
voured to  kick  them.  But  at  every  attempt  to  do  so  they 
thrust  his  head  under,  amid  shouts  from  the  whole  popula- 
tion of  the  town  assembled  on  the  bank. 

There  was  one  witness  to  this  struggle,  however,  who 
did  not  remain  an  idle  spectator.  This  was  Watch,  Van 
Wiggens’s  faithful  little  mongrel  cur.  He  leaped  into  the 
stream  and  swam  to  the  rescue  of  his  master.  But,  before 
he  could  reach  him,  he  came  near  forfeiting  his  life ; for  a 
young  brother  of  one  of  the  girls  aimed  an  arrow  at  his 
head,  which  grazed  his  nose ; and  he  was  fixing  another  to 
the  string  when  one  of  the  chiefs  snatched  the  bow  away. 
The  girls  themselves  did  not  fear  the  dog. 

“Make  Indian  dog  too,”  said  one  of  them,  when  Watch 
exposed  his  teeth. 

“ He’ll  bite  !”  said  Van  Wiggens. 

“Wash  white  man’s  blood  out  of  dog  too,”  said  the  girl, 
and  the  next  moment  she  dived  beneath  the  surface.  An 
instant  after,  Watch  uttered  a sharp  cry  and  disappeared. 

“Dey  are  de  teiffie’s  taughters  temselves!”  said  Van 
Wiggens. 

“He’s  Indian  dog  now,”  said  the  girl,  rising,  after 
several  moments  of  breathless  suspense,  during  which  it  was 
generally  feared  poor  Watch  had  descended  too  deeply 
and  remained  too  long  under  the  water  ever  to  rise  again. 
“He  won’t  bite  Indian  now,”  she  continued,  holding  the 
almost  lifeless  animal’s  nose  above  the  surface.  “ He 
wron’t  die,”  said  she,  reversing  the  body  and  causing  the 
water  to  flow  out  of  his  mouth.  And,  when  animation  re 


THE  CEREMONY  OP  BAPTISM  IN  AN  INDIAN  FAMILY—- P.  161. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


161 


turned,  poor  Watcli,  released,  paddled  back  to  the  shore  in 
piteous  submission,  and  did  not  open  his  mouth  again. 

„ “Aha!  me  darlints  !”  cried  Paddy,  watching  an  oppor- 
tunity, and  seizing  both  of  his  girls  round  their  waists, 
“ I’ve  got  ye  now ! We’ll  sink  or  swame  thegether  ! If  you 
can  howld  your  breaths  the  longest  under  the  wather,  you’ll 
find  Paddy  Pence  can  squeeze  the  hardest  above  it,  and 
he’ll  die  with  his  death-grip  upon  ye !” 

The  Indians  on  the  bank  yelled  with  delight,  and  the 
girls  begged  to  be  released. 

“Civil  the  bit !”  cried  Paddy.  “I’ll  saa  ye  at  the  bot- 
tom first ! Will  ye  be  me  squaws  ? Answer  me  that,  my 
darlints.” 

“Must  ask  mother  in  a basket,”  was  the  reply.  The 
mode  of  declaration  among  the  Indians  is  to  leave  a present 
in  a basket  at  the  tent  of  the  girl’s  mother. 

“In  a basket,  is  it?  No  ! it’s  in  the  strame  ! And  ye 
must  answer  for  yerselves,  and  I’ll  fax  the  mother  afther- 
ward.  Onyhow,  ye  can  jist  let  me  have  a kiss  or  two  to 
sale  the  bargain;”  and  Paddy,  in  despite  of  their  cries  and 
struggles,  kissed  them  repeatedly,  while  the  spectators 
greeted  him  with  cheering  shouts. 

Van  Wiggens,  following  the  example  of  his  dog  and  of 
Peter  Shaver,  submitted  to  the  will  and  pleasure  of  his  at- 
tendants, and  was  glad  to  find  that  when  he  ceased  to  make 
sport  for  them  they  ceased  to  torment  him. 

This  ceremony  lasted  more  than  an  hour,  and  was  ter 
minated  by  one  of  the  old  men,  a sachem,  who  approached 
the  water’s  edge,  leading  the  old  squaw  into  whose  family 
.the  men  were  to  be  received.  Soma  words  of  investiture 
were  uttered  during  the  profound  silence  that  ensued  when 
the  girls  led  the  washed  candidates  to  the  shore.  They 
were  to  the  effect  that  the  adopted  Indians  must  forget  that 
they  ever  were  white  men,  and  love  and  honour  none  but 
Indians.  They  were  to  hunt  game  in  time  of  peace,  and 
to  steal  horses  and  scalp  their  enemies  in  time  of  war. 
Van  Wiggens’s  dog  was  to  watch  at  the  door  of  his  wig- 
wam while  Diving  Duck  hoed  the  corn  in  the  garden ; 
and  he  besought  his  new  brother  not  to  beat  his  squaw  so 
much  as  her  first  husband  had  done. 

The  Dutchman,  who  had  looked  with  dread  and  aversion 
on  his  second  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens,  plucked  new  spirits  upon 


162 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


learning  that  among  the  Indians  husbands  were  allowed  to 
whip  their  wives  and  be‘  masters  of  their  own  households. 
And  without  the  least  delay  he  ordered  his  wife  to  prepare 
a dozen  roasting-ears  for  his  dinner,  which  being  trans- 
lated by  Charles,  the  old  squaw  went  away  grumbling, 
doubtless  to  obey  the  command. 

Then  the  next  thing  to  be  done  was  the  assuming  of  the 
Indian  costume  by  Paddy  and  the  Dutchman.  The  latter 
objected  to  having  any  of  his  hair  cut  off,  while  Paddy  was 
for  having  his  head  entirely  denuded.  He  had  a deadly 
aversion  to  scalp-locks.  Boone  and  Charles  superintended 
that  portion  of  the  ceremony,  and  in  a very  short  time  the 
two  new  Indians — one  Dutch  and  the  other  Irish — were 
strutting  proudly  through  the  streets. 

But  Paddy  and  Peter  saw  no  more  of  the  girls  that  day. 
Nor  could  they  form  a matrimonial  alliance,  according  to 
the  lex  non  scripta  of  the  tribe,  without  the  concurrence 
of  their  mothers.  Nor  could  Van  Wiggens,  in  his  capacity 
of  the  head  of  a family,  cede  away  lands  without  the  sanc- 
tion of  his  spouse.  Thus,  in  civil  transactions,  and  parti- 
cularly in  hereditary  matters,  such  as  successions  to  titles 
and  estates,  the  squaws  performed  a most  important  part. 
"But,  if  the  husband  could  do  nothing  without  the  permission 
of  his  wife,  he  might  beat  her  if  she  displeased  him, — that 
is,  if  he  possessed  the  physical  ability  to  do  so ; if  not,  she 
might  beat  him. 

During  the  dusk  of  the  deepening  twilight,  Boone  and 
Charles,  who  still  lingered  on  the  margin  of  the  river, 
espied  a slight  movement  in  a tuft  of  blackberry-bushes  at 
the  edge  of  the  embankment  and  not  exceeding  six  paces . 
from  where  they  sat.  A moment  after,  they  beheld  a man 
slowly  and  noiselessly  lift  his  head  and  gaze  toward  the 
village.  They  grasped  their  knives,  for  they  had  been 
talking  of  their  meditated  escape,  determined,  if  it  were  an 
Indian  who  had  been  listening,  to  prevent  him  from  frus- 
trating their  plans  by  taking  his  life,  as  they  considered 
such  a sacrifice  justifiable  when  necessary  for  their  own 
salvation.  But  they  were  relieved  on  seeing  the  man  ap- 
proach them.  It  was  Kenton,  who  had  succeeded  in  secret- 
ing himself  while  the  Indians  were  enjoying  their  sport, 
with  the  intention  to  effect  his  escape  as  soon  as  it  grew  dark ; 
but,  fortunately,  hearing  the  project  of  Boone  and  Charles, 


SECOND  SERIES. 


163 


he  wisely  and  nobly  relinquished  his  purpose  of  immediate 
flight.  He  knew  his  disappearance  would  subject  the  rest 
of  the  prisoners  to  a stricter  vigilance,  and  might  cause  the 
death  of  some  of  them. 

“You  are  a noble  fellow!”  said  Charles,  upon  learning 
his  motive. 

“And  you  shall  escape  with  us,”  said  Boone. 

“Yes — never  fear  me  !”  said  Kenton.  “ I’m  harder  to 
hold  than  an  eel.  They’re  in  a good  humour  now.  I 
didn’t  want  any  of  ’em  to  see  I had  hid,  though  ! The 
devil  can  soon  get  into  ’em.” 

“And  now,  when  you  return  voluntarily  with  us,”  said 
Boone,  “their  suspicion  will  be  lulled.” 

“I  thought  of  that,”  said  Kenton,  sitting  on  the  root  of 
the  sycamore  beside  them.  “ Let’s  wait  till  they  miss  me 
and  give  the  yell.  There  it  is  now  ! I knew  it ! They’d’ve 
given  me  a hard  race ! They’re  coming ! Now  let  us 
meet  them.” 

They  did  so,  and  the  warriors  patted  Simon  on  the  back, 
and  said,  “You  honest  man;  but  mustn’t  steal  Indian’s  hoss. 
Don’t  be  hoss-steal ; don’t  be  dam  white  man.” 

The  Indians  generally  can  speak  enough  of  our  language 
to  make  themselves  understood ; and  they  first  learn  how 
to  swear.  They  have  no  oaths  in  their  own  language. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  FLIGHT — THE  BATTLE — PADDY’S  EXPLOITS. 

Bartholomew  Calvin,  after  sitting  some  time  gazing 
in  silence  at  the  handsome  features  of  the  Indian  maiden 
who  had  innocently  captured  his  heart  and  surrendered  her 
own  to  another,  rose  up  moodily  and  strode  with  melan- 
choly aspect  into  the  wigwam  of  his  relative,  the  ancient 
Tammany. 

The  old  chief  beckoned  him  to  be  seated,  and  pointed 
toward  the  pipe  and  tobacco.  To  his  surprise,  the  young 
man  declined  smoking.  He  then  ordered  one  of  his  wives 
to  set  some  bear’s-meat  and  honey  before  his  nephew. 


164 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  i 


These  he  merely  tasted,  and  then,  sitting  at  his  uncle’s 
feet,  said  he  had  come  thither  to  receive  his  counsel.  H0 
explained  to  him  the  painful  condition  of  his  heart  and  his 
sentiments  regarding  the  war. 

44  Listen!”  said  the  old  chief,  leaning  his  feeble  form 
against  the  wall  of  his  house,  which  was  hung  with  skins, 
and  scanning  his  attenuated  limbs,  shrunken  with  age  and 
palsied  with  debility.  64 1 have  not  many  words  to  speak ; 
but  my  sister’s  son  shall  have  them  all.  I am  old.  Yet  the 
days  of  my  youth  seem  as  yesterday.  So  the  life  of  an  old 
man  is  but  short.  I look  at  my  skin-covered  bones  and 
Jaugh”  (and  his  wrinkled  face  was  then  beaming  with  bright 
smiles)  44  with  the  children  that  mock  at  me.  They  will 
soon  be  placed  away,  and  then  I will  tread  the  great  hunt- 
ing-grounds, where  there  is  no  age,  no  disease,  no  dying. 
Listen,  sister’s  son!  We  pass  like  a feather  blown  away. 
Why  should  we  wound  and  kill  those  people  whom  the 
Great  Spirit  sent  to  our  shores?  Can  we  kill  them  all  and 
drive  them  hence  ? No ; it  is  the  voice  of  God.  The 
Christian’s  God  is  the  Indian’s  God.  The  Indian  cannot 
oppose  him.  The  Indian  may  fight  for  his  lands  and  die 
with  honour ; but  he  must  lose  his  lands,  and  then  what  is 
the  honour  of  this  world  to  him  when  he  dwells  in  another  ? 
You  sigh  for  the  Brown  Thrush.  It  is  well.  When  the 
White  Eagle  spreads  his  wings  and  passes  the  mountain, 
she  will  charm  thee  with  her  song.  Then  Brandt  will 
come,  fierce  as  the  wolf-dog  and  as  bloody.  Go  not  with 
him.  Obey  the  voice  of  God.  It  speaks  in  the  acts  of  the 
white  men.  They  are  like  the  leaves  of  the  trees  or  the 
stars  of  the  heavens.  They  cannot  be  counted.  She  w#l 
go  with  you.  She  was  baptized  because  she  loved  the 
Christian  youth.  She  will  follow  him.  But  he  will  have 
another,  fairer  to  behold  than  the  Wild  Thrush.  He  cannot 
have  two.  Then  you  may  have  one.  Go  to  Sagorighwi- 
yogstha,”  (Jersey,  Doer  of  Justice.)  44  Die  there  in  peace. 
Eat,  wear  warm  clothes,  sleep  well,  and  be  as  happy  as  you 
can,  and  ever  true  and  honest  during  life’s  short  day.  Then 
die.  Death  is  only  sleep.  Awake  in  paradise.  Meet  me 
there.  My  sister’s  son,  I have  no  more  to  say.” 

Calvin  had  listened  intently,  and  every  word  of  his  an- 
cient relative  seemed  engraven  on  his  mind. 

lie  withdrew  and  strode  into  the  camp  outlie  whito  peo- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


165 


pie.  ^harles  led  him  into  his  own  tent,  where  none  could 
intrude. 

“ You  will  not  betray  me,  I know,"  said  Charles;  “and 
therefore  I have  brought  you  hither  to  make  known  our 
secret.  The  white  prisoners  will  escape  to-morrow  night, 
and  I shall  go  with  them.  Will  you  remain  ?” 

“ Does  the  Thrush  go  ?” 

“No.” 

“ Then  1 will  remain.” 

“Not,  1 hope,  to  follow  Brandt?” 

“No.  But  1 shall  probably  follow  thee  with  his  sister.” 
“ Alas ! what  will  be  her  feelings  when  she  learns  I have 
fled  from  her  ? Calvin,  I have  never  loved  her  as  you  do. 
My  affection  for  her  is  strong,  but  it  is  only  that  of  a 
brother.  I shall  pass  many  sleepless  nights  thinking  of  my 
poor  devoted  forest  sister.  She  loves  me  as  you  would 
have  her  love  you.  She  is  very  beautiful  and  good,  Cal- 
vin. And  when  I am  gone,  and  married  to  another,  my 
friend,  watch  over  my  forest  sister ! Do  not  let  her  be 
destroyed.  Bring  her  to  the  Jerseys,  and,  when  she  sees 
that  men  there  never  have  two  wives,  she  will  love  thee.” 
For  an  instant  the  fire  of  a long  line  of  noble  chieftains 
glimmered  in  the  dark  eye  of  the  Indian  youth  and  was 
then  engulfed  forever  in  darkness.  The  words  of  his  uncle 
still  sounded  in  his  ears,  and  the  haughty  reply  another 
might  have  uttered  died  within  him.  Without  speaking, 
he  pressed  the  hand  of  Charles  and  withdrew. 

During  the  following  day  quite  a number  of  the  Eastern 
chiefs  arrived,  and  a great  many  skins  were  placed  round 
the  council-fire,  (always  kept  burning,)  to  be  in  readiness 
for  the  assembling  of  the  representatives  of  the  nations. 

Logan,  the  great  Mingo  chief,  strode  through  the  village 
in  sullen  gloom,  and  once  paused  before  the  tent  of  Gentle 
Moonlight  and  gazed  steadily  at  the  fair  face  of  Julia. 
She  grasped  his  hand  with  fears  in  her  eyes,  for  the  sad 
tale  of  the  murder  of  his  family — wife  and  children,  even 
his  little  pet  pappoose,  two  years  old  — had  often  been 
repeated  in  her  presence.  And  he  did  not  speak.  Ilis 
tongue  could  not  find  utterance.  But  he  pointed  toward 
the  East,  and  turned  away.  Julia  understood  him,  and 
became  more  impatient  than  ever  to  depart. 

In  the  afternoon  Queen  Esther’s  drum  was  heard.  The 


166 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


blood  of  the  prisoners  ran  cold  in  their  veins.  Preceded 
by  the  music,  and  followed  by  her  guards,  the  implacable 
old  woman  first  visited  the  grand-council-chamber,  and 
upon  every  skin  she  placed  small  pictures  of  the  massacre 
of  Cornstalk  and  his  son  Elenipsico,  and  Red  Hawk,  and 
the  wife  and  babes  of  Logan.  These  had  been  engraved  in 
Canada,  under  the  direction  of  the  Johnstons  and  Butlers, 
for  distribution  among  the  Indians.  Then  she  walked 
round  the  council-fire  three  times,  chanting  one  of  her  in- 
fernal songs,  and  casting  brimstone  into  the  flame. 

Withdrawing  from  the  council-chamber,  she  hastened  to 
the  house  which  had  been  prepared  for  her  reception,  and 
summoned  the  ancient  chiefs  of  the  Senecas  to  appear 
before  her. 

“My  children,”  said  she,  “why  have  I seen  the  pale- 
face prisoners  walking  about  with  guns  in  their  hands  ? 
Are  we  not  at  war?  Do  they  permit  their  Indian  prisoners 
to  go  at  large  ? Where  are  the  chiefs  that  were  betrayed 
at  Point  Pleasant  ? Who  knows  that  before  another  sun 
we  shall  not  be  attacked  in  our  wigwams?” 

Ughs,  shrugs,  and  grimaces,  followed  this  interrogation. 

“What  shall  we  do?”  she  continued.  “We  are  to  have 
war.  The  Great  Spirit  has  told  me  so  in  the  council-house. 
Then  we  shall  kill  our  prisoners.  But,  before  that  time, 
suppose  our  prisoners  kill  us?” 

The  Senecas  brandished  their  tomahawks  and  uttered 
fierce  threats. 

“We  will  not  permit  them,  my  children.  To-morrow 
morning,  at  early  dawn,  we  will  kill  them  all ! That  will 
be  war  ! Then  let  the  Oneidas,  and  Delawares,  and  Shaw- 
nees,  and  Cherokees,  smoke  the  peace-pipe  with  the  Ameri- 
cans, if  they  will!” 

“ Warriors!”  said  Red  Jacket,  who  had  followed  Queen 
Esther,  and  anticipated  some  such  sanguinary  proposition, 
“hear  what  I have  to  say.  Wait  till  all  the  chiefs  and 
sachems,  and  the  grand-sachem  of  the  Five  Nations,  have 
met  together  and  deliberated.  That  is  all  I advise.”  And 
he  sat  down. 

“ The  Eastern  prisoners  are  mine,”  said  the  old  Queen, 
“ and  I may  decide  their  fate.” 

“ The  sister  and  aunt  of  Thayendanegea  are  among 
them,”  said  Red  Jacket. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


167 


“ They  shall  live,”  said  the  other. 

“ The  White  Eagle,  Thayendanegea’s  white  brother,  is 
among  them.” 

“If  he  will  not  wed  Brandt’s  sister,  Brandt  will  not 
mourn  for  him.  He  must  die,  if  he  will  not  marry  and 
live  with  us.” 

“ The  Delaware  youth,  the  son  of  Tammany’s  sister,  is 
among  them.” 

“ He  shall  live,  and  marry  Brandt’s  sister,  when  White 
Eagle  is  dead.” 

“I  have  spoken,”  said  Red  Jacket.  “I  have  no  more 
to  say.  Let  my  words  be  remembered.” 

The  old  Queen  then  dismissed  the  chiefs,  without  giving 
them  any  further  directions.  She  relied  upon  their  desire 
of  vengeance  for  the  loss  of  their  brothers  on  the  Alle- 
ghimy. 

It  was  near  midnight.  The  fires  in  the  wigwams  had 
ceased  to  cast  up  their  flames,  and  the  smouldering  embers 
threw  a deep  red  glare  over  the  sleeping  forms  of  the 
Indians.  They  sleep  as  heartily  as  they  eat,  and  repose  is 
as  necessary  to  them  as  food.  Like  the  fowls  of  the  air, 
when  darkness  comes  their  eyelids  grow  heavy.  They  do 
not  have*' sentinels.  Nor  do  they  often  attack  in  the  night. 

It  was  different  with  the  whites.  They  were  lying  very 
still,  it  is  true,  with  their  fires  burning  low.  But  their  eyes 
were  open,  and  each  impatient  to  rise  at  the  signal  and  be 
gone. 

Boone,  Kenton,  and  Hugh  McSwine  were  with  Charles 
in  his  little  tent  communicating  with  the  large  one  which 
contained  the  rest  of  the  male  prisoners.  They  were  lying 
on  their  buffalo  robes,  speaking  in  whispers.  The  horses 
which  were  to  convey  them  to  the  Ohio  River  were  in  readi- 
ness, a few  hundred  paces  from  the  village,  held  by  one  of 
the  faithful  Scots,  whose  absence  from  the  prisoners’  wig- 
wam had  not  been  observed  by  the  Indian  who  hastily 
counted  the  captives  at  night.  And  Julia  had  assured  them 
that  she  would  be  able  to  rise  and  leave  her  tent* without 
awaking  her  companions. 

It  was  now  near  the  time  of  departure,  and  Charles 
grew  impatient  for  the  signal  Julia  was  to  give.  The 
curtain  of  buffalo-skins  hanging  between  them  and  the 
large  wigwam  containing  the  rest  was  slightly  agitated. 


163 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


Charles  started  up,  but  instantly  resumed  his  recumbent 
position,  knowing  that  Julia  would  not  come  from  that 
direction,  stepping  over  the  bodies  of  the  men. 

„ Again  the  skin  was  moved,  followed  by  a low  sound,  like 
the  chirp  of  a cricket,  and  Hugh  McSwine  sprang  up 
hastily. 

“ I dinna’  think  it  can  be  him,”  said  Hugh,  “but  it’s  like 
the  chiel’s  midnight-signal.  If  it  be  you,  Skippie,”  he  con- 
tinued, “ come  in,  mon  !” 

The  skin  was  thrust  aside,  and  the  whole  party  rose 
to  their  feet,  with  the  bright  blades  of  their  brandished 
knives  reflecting  the  dim  red  glare  of  the  sinking  embers. 
The  form  which  stood  before  them  was  in  the  Seneca  cos- 
tume. 

“ Whisper  low !”  said  Boone,  grasping  the  intruder  by 
the  neck  with  his  left  hand,  “ or  I’ll  let  out  your  blood  in 
the  ashes.” 

“Loosen  your  gripe,  mon,”  said  Hugh;  “don’t  you  see 
his  eyes  are  popping  out  ? He’s  strangled,  mon,  and  can’t 
speak.” 

“ He  may  give  the  alarm-halloo,”  said  Boone,  staring  at 
his  unresisting  victim. 

“No,”  said  Charles.  “A  spy  would  not  have  obtruded 
upon  us  in  this  manner.  Release  him,  Mr.  Boone.” 

Boone  did  so,  and  the  poor  fellow  sank  down  and 
breathed  heavily,  for  he  had  been  nearly  suffocated. 

“ Skippie  !”  at  length  was  uttered  by  him,  as  he  placed 
a number  of  letters  in  Charles’s  hand. 

“ It  is  Skippie  !”  said  Charles.  “ Never  was  any  one  so 
perfectly  disguised  ! And  he  comes  from  my  father.  But 
I have  no  time  now  to  read  the  letters,”  he  added,  thrust- 
ing them  in  his  bosom.  \ 

“ Bundle  outside,”  said  Skippie,  pointing  in  the  direction. 

?#What  is  it?  Who  is  it  for?”  demanded  Charles. 

“Miss  Julia,”  was  the  reply. 

“Return  and  take  charge  of  it,  Skippie.  And  follow  us 
when  we  leave  here  to-night.” 

“ Leave  to-night  ?”  asked  Skippie,  with  unwonted  energy. 

“Yes.” 

“ Good  !”  he  said,  with  apparent  satisfaction. 

“Why?”  asked  Charles. 

“ Dead  to-morrow !” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


169 


This  announcement  produced,  as  was  natural,  great  in- 
ternal commotion ; and  Hugh,  knowing  the  shortest  method 
of  obtaining  information  from  his  unique  countryman,  soon 
learned  that  Skippie  had  been  an  auditor  at  the  brief  con- 
ference held  in  Queen  Esther’s  wigwam.  The  intelligence 
of  her  diabolical  design  filled  the  breasts  of  the  prisoners 
with  fierce  indignation.  Hugh  proposed  taking  her  life 
before  departing ; but  this  was  objected  to  as  hazardous 
and  unnecessary.  Hugh,  however,  was  permitted  to  watch 
the  sleeping  guards  of  Queen  Esther  wTho  had  been  sta- 
tioned near  the  wigwam  in  readiness  for  the  bloody  work  in 
the  morning.  They  were  wrapped  in  bear-skins,  and  lay 
under  a persimmon-tree,  and  Skippie  had  been  compelled 
to  step  over  some  of  their  bodies  to  reach  the  tent.  There 
was,  howTever,  another  place  of  egress  prepared  for  such  a 
contingency.  Nevertheless,  Skippie’s  information  wras  well- 
timed,  for  the  presence  of  the  savages  under  the  tree  had 
not  been  discovered,  and  the  escaping  party  would  have 
stumbled  upon  them. 

A handful  of  sand  thrown  against  the  tent  was  the  joy- 
ful signal  Charles  had  been  waiting  for,  and  the  moment  he 
heard  it  his  keen  knife  glided  noiselessly  down  the  canvas. 
He  stepped  out,  followed  by  Kenton,  who  was  to  precede 
him  to  the  place  where  the  horses  had  been  concealed.  It 
was  a starlight  night,  and  the  form  of  Julia,  easily  dis- 
cernible, was  encircled  by  the  arm  of  Charles,  who  led  her 
softly  a\vay  in  the  direction  the  guide  was  pursuing. 

Boone  brought  up  the  rear,  leading  the  prisoners,  while 
Hugh  and  Skippie  lingered  behind  to  watch  the  sleeping 
Senecas. 

They  moved  in  silence,  or  spoke  in  low  whispers ; and  so 
still  was  the  night  that  they  could  hear  the  occupants 
snoring  within  several  of  the  houses  they  passed.  They 
were  just  opposite  the  last  house,  and  supposed  there  was 
no  further  danger  of  interruption  and  discovery,  when  a 
man  ran  out  from  the  hut  and  stumbled  against  Charles 
and  Julia.  Boone’s  knife  was  uplifted,  and  in  the  act  of 
descending,  when  his  arm  wTas  arrested  on  recognising  a 
well-known  voice. 

“ Tam  her  ! Trunk  ! Snoring  all  te  time  ! Hello  !”  he 
continued,  when  jostling  Charles ; and,  seeing  Boone’s 

15 


170 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


raised  arm,  cried,  “Ton’t!  Fm  Yill  Wan  Yiggens,  and 
— where’s  my  dog  ? Here,  Yatch  !’ 

“And,  be  the  powers !”  said  Paddy,  following,  “do  ye 
take  me  for  yer  falthy  cur  ? But  I don’t  wonder  at  it. 
You’ve  been  drinking.  A pretty  pass  I’ve  come  to  ! A 
savage  mother  so  drunk  she  can’t  stand  up,  and  a Dutch 
daddy  who  don’t  know  me  from  his  dog  ! Here’s  yer  dog 
behint  me.  He  don’t  know  ye  wThen  ve’re  disguised  with 
sich  abominable  bad  liquor.” 

“Hush!  Be  silent,  Paddy!”  said  Charles,  placing  his 
hand  on  the  amazed  Indianized  Hibernian’s  mouth. 

“ Howly  Mother ! Is  it  you,  Misther  Charles?”  asked 
Paddy,  in  a half  whisper.  “And  where  are  ye  going? 
And  mayn’t  I go  wid  ye  ?” 

“Yes.  Follow  and  be  silent.” 

“ I’ll  go  mit  you  too,”  said  Yan  Wiggens.  “ I’m  sick  of 
being  te  husband  of  tat  drunken  old  squaw.” 

“Fall  in  and  be  silent,”  said  Boone. 

When  they  reached  the  horses  (and  Kenton  had  by  some 
inscrutable  means  contrived  to  have  not  only  the  best  ani- 
mals of  the  Indians,  but  an  extra  number  of  them  collected 
together)  they  all  prepared  to  mount,  being  upward  of 
twenty  in  number,  which  included  several  prisoners  who 
had  been  captured  in  the  West. 

Simon  Kenton,  the  tall,  broad-shouldered  young  man, 
who  had  been  often  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians,  and  who 
was  beloved  by  them,  because,  like  Boone,  he  was  brave 
and  generous,  was  quite  as  familiar  with  the  country  on 
both  sides  of  the  Ohio,  and  on  the  Scioto,  as  any  of  the 
red  warriors  themselves.  He  made  Paddy  and  the  Dutch- 
man mount  two  of  the  supernumerary  horses  he  had  intended 
to  lead.  Much  time  was  consumed  in  extricating  some  of 
the  animals  from  the  thicket,  and  Boone  evinced  a degree 
of  impatience,  fearing  that  Kenton’s  eagerness  to  secure 
horses  might  cost  them  dearly. 

When  every  thing  was  properly  adjusted,  the  cavalcade 
moved  off  in  a brisk  pace  in  the  direction  of  Paint  Creek. 
But  before  they  had  gone  far  they  were  startled  by  the 
awful  voice  of  Peter  Shaver’s  jackass  in  the  Indian  town. 
He  brayed  most  discordantly,  and  the  hills  reverberated  the 
sound. 

“Somebody’s  been  kilt,”  said  Paddy;  “for  Pater’s  ass 


SECOND  SERIES. 


171 


niver  brays  widout  smelling  blood,  I hope,  lViisther 
Charles,”  he  continued,  in  a lower  tone,  “it  was  none 
of  us.” 

“ It  was  not  you,  Paddy,  nor  I,”  said  Julia,  smiling. 

“ Och,  Blessed  Yargin  ! and  it’s  you,  is  it,  Miss  Julia? 
I’d  know  yer  voice  the  darkest  night  that  iver  shone ! 
And  where’s  the  t’other  little  swateheart?” 

“ One  is  enough,  Paddy,”  said  Charles. 

“ Enough,  is  it  ? Yes,  and,  be  the  powers,  it’s  often  one 
too  many.  And  Van  Waggens  had  one  too  many  at  home, 
and  he  must  get  another  ! But  it’s  glad  I am  to  saa  you 
have  got  rid  of  one,  and  she  a wild  savage !” 

“ Hush,  Paddy!”  said  Julia,  sharply.  “ She  is  a gentle 
creature,  whom  I love  as  a sister.” 

“Thru©  enough  for  you,  Miss  Julia!  and  was  she  not 
Misther  Charles’s  Indian  sister,  and  won’t  she  be  yours 
when  you  are ” 

Paddy’s  words  were  arrested  by  a sudden  commotion  be- 
hind, caused  by  the  arrival  of  Hugh  McSwine  and  Skippie, 
who  came  up  at  a gallop. 

“ Hugh !”  said  Charles,  gazing  steadily  at  the  excited 
countenance  of  the  Scot,  for  they  were  now  crossing  a 
small  prairie,  and  the  stars  were  shining  brightly,  “you 
remained  behind.  Is  that  not  the  solution  of  the  loud 
braying  ?” 

“I  did  not  see  the  ass,”  said  Hugh,  equivocating. 

“Let  me  see  your  hand,  Hugh.” 

Hugh  held  it  out  silently.  It  was  covered  with  blood,  as 
was  also  the  sleeve  of  his  buckskin  hunting-shirt. 

“It  wTas  wrong,  I fear!  — very  wrong;  and  we  may 
repent  it.  There  can  be  no  peace  now.  And  they  will 
all  join  the  British.  I’m  glad  Mr.  Jones  determined  to 
escape  with  us.  If  he  had  remained,  as  was  his  intention 
yesterday,  he  would  have  been  lost.  To-morrow,  the  first 
white  man  they  see,  if  it  be  not  one  of  the  infamous  rene- 
gades, will  be  tomahawked  or  burned  at  the  stake.  How 
did  you  accomplish  it?  Who  did  you  strike ?” 

“I  dinna’  ken  their  names,”  said  Hugh.  “But  my 
dirk ” 

“ Their  names.  More  than  one,  then?” 

“ Three.  Skippie  led  the  way.  They  were  to  fall  upon 
us  in  the  morning  with  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife. 


172 


WILL"  WESTERN  SCENES: 


That  heated  my  blude.  The  guard  set  over  us  will  never 
see  the  dawn  of  day  !” 

“ Terrible  !”  said  Julia,  leaning  forward  on  her  horse, 
and  striving  to  shut  out  the  horrible  picture  from  her 
imagination. 

“Did  they  alarm  the  village ?”  asked  Boone,  whoso 
quick  ear  had  caught  the  purport  of  Hugh’s  words. 

“ They  never  spoke  a word,  mon ! There  was  only  a 
whizzing  gushing  noise  about  their  throats,  a kick  or  two, 
and  they  were  as  still  as  ever.  When  Hugh  McSwine  has 
one  hand  on  a foeman’s  neck,  and  his  dirk  in  the  other, 
there  are  never  any  words  or  screams.” 

“But  the  ass ?” 

“ De’il  tak  the  ass  ! I vowed  to  cut  his  throat  if  I met 
wi*  him  again ! But  I didn’t  see  him.  He  was  biting  the 
hazel-bushes  round  the  tent,  and  when  he  smelt  the  blude 
he  ran  away  squalling  as  if  the  de’il  were  at  his  heels !” 

“And  did  he  not  rouse  the  Indians?”  asked  Charles. 

“ Skippie  and  I waited  to  see.  Some  did  come  out  and 
gaze  in  the  dark.  But  the  ass  had  moved  some  distance 
from  the  dead  men,  who  could  tell  no  tales.” 

“ Then  why  should  wTe  hasten  so  fast  ?”  asked  Julia. 

“We  heard  the  women  screaming,”  said  Hugh. 

“Enough!”  cried  Charles.  “Our  escape  has  been  dis- 
covered ! We  cannot  conceal  our  trail.  We  must  fly  with 
the  utmost  speed.  There  can  be  no  rest  for  you,  my  Julia, 
until  we  pass  the  Ohio.  I hope  you  can  bear  the 
fatigue !” 

“ Oh  yes,  I can  bear  it,”  said  she. 

They  increased  their  pace  to  the  utmost,  and  the  unerr- 
ing guidance  of  Kenton  kept  them  in  the  right  direction. 
Boone  was  silent  during  the  remainder  of  the  night,  riding 
by  the  side  of  Hugh  and  just  behind  Charles  and  Julia. 

Charles,  being  familiar  with  the  habits  of  the  savages, 
informed  Julia  that  their  pursuers  would  not  start  on  their 
trail  until  daylight,  and  could  not  possibly  overtake  them 
before  they  reached  the  Ohio  River,  some  fifty  miles  dis- 
tant, if  they  met  with  no  delay  and  could  keep  their  horses 
going  until  the  next  day  at  noon.  And  Kenton,  keeping 
a little  in  advance,  but  within  speaking  distance,  informed 
them  with  a chuckle  that  the  fleetest  horses  had  been  taken 
from  the  Indians,  and  those  they  could  not  take  had  been 


SECOND  SERIES. 


173 


let  loose  m the  woods,  and  might  perhaps  follow  them 
without  riders. 

Neither  Boone  nor  Charles,  however,  seemed  to  attach 
so  much  importance  to  the  agency  of  horses  as  Kenton  did. 
They  were  aware  that  the  Indian  himself  could  run  for 
days  without  apparent  fatigue,  and  that  he  could  cross 
ravines  which  equestrians  must  pass  round,  and  traverse 
swamps  in  the  direct  line  of  march  where  horses,  if  they 
did  not  deviate,  would  stick  fast  in  the  mud.  Yet  they  did 
not  suppose  they  could  be  overtaken  if  their  flight  met  with 
no  interruption.  But  was  it  not  likely  they  would  fall  in 
with  some  of  the  hunting-parties  continually  going  into 
and  returning  from  Kentucky  ? They  were  certainly  beset 
with  dangers  on  every  hand,  and  it  was  not  a proper  time 
to  be  counting  gains  in  the  item  of  stolen  horses. 

The  first  interruption  was  caused  by  Van  Wiggens’s  dog, 
which  barked  piteously  at  every  leap,  and  began  to  lose 
ground.  His  master  said  he  could  not  leave  him  behind, 
nor  did  he  believe  he  could  follow  their  trail.  Boone 
reined  in  his  steed  and  fell  back  to  where  the  dog  was  yelp- 
ing, and,  leaning  over  the  side  of  his  horse,  succeeded  in 
grasping  poor  Watch  by  the  tail,  and  lifted  him  up  before 
him.  The  dog  licked  his  hand  in  gratitude. 

At  early  dawn  Paddy  begged  them  to  stop  and  have 
something  to  eat.  He  said  Miss  Julia  must  be  suffering 
with  hunger,  being  unwilling  to  confess  his  own  weakness. 
But  Julia  declared  she  could  not  and  would  not  take  any 
meat  until  they  had  reached  a place  of  safety. 

Charles,  however,  snatched  some  wild  fruit  as  they  rode 
through  the  thickets,  which  sufficed  both  for  the  maiden 
and  himself.  But  Van  Wiggens  had  an  intolerable  thirst, 
for  he  had  been  induced  to  drink  some  of  his  squaw’s  miser- 
able fire-water,  furnished  by  the  British  sutler.  This,  too, 
was  partially  allayed  by  Boone,  who,  throwing  himself  un- 
der the  neck  of  his  horse,  dipped  up  water  from  the  small 
streams  they  were  occasionally  dashing  through.  The  poor 
Dutch  Indian  drank  a little  of  this  while  in  motion,  and 
spilled  more,  which  he  wept  over. 

About  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  and  when  Kenton 
was  promising  in  a few  hours  more  to  show  them  the  cliffs 
of  the  Ohio,  the  party  halted  abruptly,  most  of  them  with 
painfully-throbbing  hearts.  On  an  eminence  in  the  prairie 

15* 


174 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


through  which  they  were  passing,  and  in  the  line  of  march 
directly  before  them,  they  beheld  a company  of  some  forty 
Indians.  They  seemed  to  be  returning  from  a hunting 
expedition,  as  their  horses  were  laden  with  buffalo-meat. 

46  Will  they  attack  US'?”  asked  Julia. 

44 1 think  they  will !”  said  Kenton,  whose  quick  eye  had 
instantly  computed  their  superior  number.  44  But  we  can 
whip  ’em  ! I’ll  have  a scalp  for  every  horse  they  take  !” 

Charles  perceived  that  the  Indians  were  astonished  at 
the  apparition  of  such  a cavalcade.  Most  of  the  whites — 
and  they  seemed  themselves  to  have  forgotten  it — were 
not  only  habited  as  Indians,  but  painted  like  them  also. 
But  their  mode  of  sitting  on  horseback  and  manner  of 
riding,  even  at  the  distance  of  several  hundred  yards,  could 
not  long  deceive  the  hunting-party  as  to  the  true  nature 
of  their  quality.  Himself,  however,  and  Kenton  and 
Boone,  might  counterfeit  the  Indian  without  liability  to 
detection ; and  so  the  three,  after  giving  certain  directions 
to  Hugh,  advanced  toward  the  opposite  party. 

Three  of  the  Indians  came  at  full  gallop  to  meet  them. 
They  were  Senecas.  In  answer  to  their  inquiry,  Charles 
said  his  men  were  a party  of  adopted  prisoners  going  to 
Kentucky  to  hunt  buffalo. 

The  chief  who  had  addressed  him  said  all  that  was  very 
good,  and  asked  if  all  the  prisoners  had  been  adopted  with- 
out running  the  gauntlet. 

Charles  said  he  believed  some  were  retained  for  the 
torture,  and  had  been  taken  to  Sandusky,  where  they 
would  probably  be  burned  at  the  stake,  as  their  captors 
had  painted  them  black. 

The  chief  asked  if  they  had  not  scalped  and  burned 
44  Captain  Kenton,  a horse-steal  rascal,  d white  man  !” 

Kenton  made  an  involuntary  movement,  as  if  to  cock 
his  gun,  but  was  checked  by  Boone. 

Charles  said  they  had  not  yet  decided  his  fate,  nor 
Boone’s. 

44  Captain  Boone  ! honest  man !”  said  the  Indian,  while 
Boone’s  grave  features  relaxed  into  a smile.  44  What 
horse?”  continued  the  speaker,  staring  in  astonishment  at 
the  noble  black  animal  Kenton  bestrode. 

44  One  he  borrowed,”  said  Charles,  in  the  Seneca  tongue. 

The  Indian  flew  into  a violent  passion,  and  accused  them 


SECOND  SERIES. 


175 


of  lying.  He  said  the  horse  was  his  own, — one  he  had  left 
at  home  for  his  squaw  to  keep  in  good  condition.  He 
intended  to  ride  him  the  next  spring,  when  they  invaded 
the  white  settlements  in  Pennsylvania.  He  then  ordered 
Kenton  to  dismount. 

This  Kenton  of  course  refused  to  do,  although  Boone 
advised  a compliance,  as  the  only  possible  means  of  avoid- 
ing a battle.  But  the  next  moment  it  was  quite  obvious 
the  surrendering  of  the  horse  would  not  have  sufficed;  for 
one  of  the  Indians  had  recognised  Kenton,  notwithstanding 
his  paint,  as  well  as  Boone,  and,  uttering  the  warwhoop, 
wheeled  away  and  sped  round  in  circles.  The  other  two 
did  the  same,  to  avoid  the  bullets  of  the  white  men,  whose 
rifles  vTere  instantly  thrown  up  to  their  faces.  The  Indians 
were  the  first  to  fire,  but  did  no  injury,  as  they  wrere  in 
rapid  motion  and  some  eighty  paces  distant.  But  Boone 
and  Kenton  (Charles  did  not  fire  at  all)  were  more  fortu- 
nate. The  first  brought  his  man  to  the  ground,  and  the 
other,  as  was  supposed,  vrounded  the  claimant  of  the  horse, 
for  he  fell  forward  on  his  horse’s  neck  and  did  not  rise 
again.  The  third  seized  his  companion,  who  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  dragged  him  away  by  the  hand  while  his  horse 
was  in  a gallop. 

The  party  came  down  from  the  hill  at  a furious  pace, 
yelling  terribly,  and  the  whites  retreated  under  cover  of 
the  sumach-bushes  at  the  edge  of  the  prairie. 

“I’ve  got  no  gun.  I can’t  fight!”  said  Paddy,  when 
they  had  dismounted  in  the  bushes. 

“ You  can  fight  with  your  knife,  mon,”  said  Hugh. 

“ And  wouldn’t  they  be  sure  to  kill  me?” 

“ No  surer  than  if  you  wrere  to  sit  down  without  resisting 
and  be  scalped.” 

“Murther!  And  I didn’t  have  the  sculp-lock  taken  off!’* 
Here’s  one  of  my  pistols,”  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones, 
coming  up  from  the  rear.  “ And  let  us  all  pray  for  pro- 
tection and  aid  from  above,  and  especially  that  this  tender 
virgin  may  not  be  harmed.  Get  up,  you  silly  coward !*' 
he  continued,  bestowing  a smart  kick  on  the  back  of 
Paddy,  who  had  fallen  on  his  knees.  64  There’s  no  time  to 
be  kneeling  now.  Pray  standing  at  your  post  or  lying 
down  with  your  finger  on  the  trigger  and  your  eye  upon 
the  enemy.  Let  your  hearts  pray,  my  brethren ; this  is  no 


17(3 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


time  for  lip-service.  And  remember  that  if  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  be  on  our  side  ten  thousand  foes  cannot  prevail 
against  us.  Be  valiant,  men,  obedient  to  your  leaders, 
and  take  a steady  aim !” 

The  Indians,  seeing  the  effect  of  the  fire  of  the  whites, 
and  knowing  Boone  and  Kenton  were  among  them,  although 
superior  in  number,  became  very  circumspect.  They  imme- 
diately abandoned  the  prairie  and  plunged  into  the  woods 
bordering  the  opening.  Their  women  and  children  were 
sent  out  of  the  way  or  hidden  in  the  grass,  and  prepara- 
tions made  for  an  immediate  assault. 

Our  party  likewise  made  preparations.  Boone  led  them 
a short  distance  to  the  left,  where  there  was  the  fallen 
trunk  of  a gigantic  tree,  charred  by  the  camp-fires  of  many 
a hunting  and  war-party.  Behind  this  the  horses  were  tied 
and  fed,  and  a guard  set  over  them,  concealed  in  the  long 
grass  which  grew  among  the  larger  branches  of  the  pros- 
trate oak.  And  here,  too,  Julia  was  deposited  in  charge 
of  Mr.  Jones.  The  remainder  of  the  party  were  then 
skilfully  disposed  by  their  experienced  leaders,  so  as  to 
make  the  place  of  Julia’s  concealment  (the  horses  being 
likely  to  tempt  the  Indians)  a sort  of  ambushment,  and 
the  most  dangerous  point  for  the  enemy  to  approach. 

When  thus  posted,  our  party,  with  a few  exceptions,  felt 
impatient  for  the  battle  to  begin.  They  knew  that  pur- 
suers were  approaching,  and  dreaded  being  exposed  be- 
tween two  fires.  The  Indians,  however,  were  not  inclined 
to  accommodate  them.  They,  too,  were  well  aware  that 
pursuit  must  have  been  made,  and  by  delaying  the  attack 
their  number  would  be  augmented  to  an  irresistible  force. 

An  hour,  which  seemed  half  a day,  thus  passed,  an 
occasional  shot  only  being  fired  by  the  advanced  scouts, 
from  their  places  of  concealment,  when  any  portions  of  the 
bodies  of  their  opponents  were  exposed. 

“ Why,  Mr.  Kenton,”  said  Paddy,  who* had  been  placed 
behind  a beech-tree,  with  directions  to  keep  his  body  con- 
cealed, and  fire  his  pistol  as  fast  as  he  could  load  if  any  of 
the  Indians  came  in  sight,  “ I say,  Misther  Kenton,  this 
ain’t  sic  a terrible  fight  afther  all.  And  this  is  a rigular 
battle,  is  it  ? Be  the  powers,  I’ll  turn  Indian-fighter  me- 
eelf ! Be  Jabers  ! what’s  that  ?” 

Paddy  having  slightly  exposed  his  coon-skin  cap,  the  tail 


SECOND  SERIES. 


177 


(which  had  been  left  on  it  for  a plume)  fell  at  his  feet,  and 
at  the  same  moment  the  sharp  report  of  a rifle  was  heard 
in  the  bushes  some  sixty  paces  distant. 

Kenton  motioned  Paddy  to  fall  down  and  pretend  to  be 
dead.  This  Paddy  did  without  hesitation,  as  soon  as  he 
comprehended  the  fact  that  the  Indian’s  ball  had  grazed 
his  head  and  carried  away  the  tail  of  which  he  had  been 
so  proud. 

The  Indian  sprang  forward  to  scalp  his  supposed  victim, 
and  received  the  fire  of  Kenton.  He  fell  in  an  open  space, 
clear  of  bushes,  as  he  ran  toward  Paddy,  pierced  through 
the  brain. 

“I  brought  him,  Paddy!”  whispered  Kenton. 

Oh,  plase  don’t  bring  him  here,  Misther  Kenton  !”  said 
Paddy,  who  lay  with  his  face  against  the  ground  and  could 
see  nothing. 

“No,  he’s  lying  yonder  in  full  view.  He  didn’t  kick;  he 
jest  quivered  a little  and  then  was  limber.  I’ve  seen  ’em 
do  it  before,  when  I got  a good  bead  on  ’em.  But  the 
others  mustn’t  drag  him  off.  Now,  Paddy,  if  you  want  to 
show  your  bravery  and  be  a great  man,  run  there  and 
scalp  him.  I’ll  wTatch,'and  keep  the  others  away  till  you’re 
done.” 

“What!  gore  my  hands  wid  human  blood?”  said  Paddy, 
spreading  out  his  trembling  fingers. 

“ No,  he’ll  not  bloody  you  much.  Make  a ring  round 
the  scalp-lock  with  your  knife,  take  the  head  between  your 
knees,  and  pull  off  the  skin  with  your  teeth.” 

“ Taath  ? Me  taath  ?” 

“Yes,  that’s  the  way  they  do  it.  I’ve  seen  it  done 
often.” 

“ Och,  Mr.  Kenton,  I’m  sick ! It’s  a faver-and-ager 
sounthry.  I’ve  got  a chale,  and — — ” 

“ Hush  !”  said  Kenton.  “ They’re  coming  to  drag  him 
away.” 

“ And  ye’d  ’a  had  poor  Paddy  to  run  right  into  their 
jaws !” 

Again  Kenton’s  rifle  spoke  the  doom  of  an  Indian,  and 
the  two  lay  together.  Charles  and  Boone  and  Hugh 
McSwine,  seeing  what  had  passed,  concentrated  the  most 
of  their  men  near  that  point,  knowing  the  Indians  would 
make  a desperate  effort  to  bear  away  their  dead. 


m 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


But,  as  they  approached,  it  was  apparent  that  the  enemy 
had  been  beforehand  with  them.  Two  of  the  faithful  Scots, 
incautiously  exposing  themselves,  were  fired  upon  from  the 
little  bramble-swamp  beyond  the  fallen  Indians  and  killed. 
This  success  of  the  foe  was  followed  «by  yells  of  exultation. 
Several  of  them  darted  forward  to  scalp  the  Scots,  but  were 
driven  back  by  the  fire  of  Boone  and  Charles,  one  of  them 
borne  off  by  his  comrades  mortally  wounded. 

The  fire  now  became  incessant  on  both  sides  in  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  the  dead  Indians.  The  Indians,  how- 
ever, were  the  greatest  sufferers.  The  briery  thicket  in 
which  they  had  collected  having  no  trees  to  resist  the  balls 
of  the  white  men,  their  death-yells  were  heard  at  short 
intervals.  The  whites  were  defended  by  trees,  Paddy  alone 
being  exposed ; but,  as  he  lay  perfectly  still,  he  was  supposed 
to  be  dead,  and  of  course  the  enemy  would  not  throw  away 
their  fire  on  him. 

“ Don’t  you  move,  Paddy,  or  you’re  a dead  man  !”  said 
Kenton,  reloading  his  rifle,  which  he  had  just  discharged 
with  effect  at  an  enormous  savage  who  betrayed  his  locality 
in  endeavouring  to  aim  at  Boone. 

“ Lord !”  cried  Paddy,  though  careful  not  to  move  hand 
or  foot.  “ I hear  the  bullets  whazzing  about  like  bumble- 
baas  ! That  wasn’t  the  rale  battle  we  had  at  first ! Now 
we  are  fighting  in  earnest.  Och,  murther  ! I shall  be  kilt ! 
I’m  a dead  man  !” 

“ They  won’t  shoot  a dead  man,  I tell  you,”  said  Kenton. 
“ Be  perfectly  still,  and  you’re  safe.  They  think  you’re 
dead.” 

“And  do  you  mane  to  insinuate  that  they  can  saa  me 
here?”  * ' 

“ To  be  sure  they  can — every  one  of  ’em.  And  if  you 
try  to  jump  behind  the  tree  again  a dozen  bullets  will  go 
through  your  body.” 

“ Murther  ! And  if  they  bate  us  they’ll  sculp  me  for  a 
dead  man  ! And  my  sculp-lock  wasn’t  shaved  off!” 

“Be  quiet!”  said  Kenton,  having  again  added  a victim 
to  his  list.  The  last  one  fell  in  attempting  to  bear  off  the 
first  he  had  slain,  who,  no  doubt,  was  a chief.  “Paddy/’ 
he  continued,  ramming  down  his  ball,  “ they’ll  hear  your 
voice,  or  see  your  cap  move  when  you  speak,  and  then 


SECOND  SERIES. 


179 


you’ll  be  killed,  sure  enough.  Don’t  you  see  how  they  are 
barking  my  tree  ?” 

“ No;  I don’t  want  to  see  it,”  said  Paddy,  in  a low 
tone. 

“ Tam  dem  !”  said  Will  Van  Wiggens.  “ Here  dey  all 
come  togedder !” 

After  something  like  a simultaneous  discharge  from  be- 
hind the  trees,  which  the  enemy  had  drawn  forth  by  a stra- 
tagem,— placing  their  blankets  on  poles  and  moving  them 
to  and  fro  in  the  bushes, — the  whole  body  of  savages  rushed 
out  with  brandished  tomahawks,  and,  yelling  terrifically, 
charged  upon  the  white  men  before  they  could  reload  their 
rifles. 

Some  of  them  fortunately  had  pistols,  and,  although  they 
could  do  but  little  execution  with  them,  they  served  to 
intimidate  the  foremost  of  the  enemy. 

“ Stand  fast  to  your  trees  !”  cried  Boone.  “ If  one  man 
runs  away  we  shall  all  perish.  Fight  with  your  tomahawks 
and  knives— man  to  man,  and  we  will  conquer  !” 

“ Give  me  your  pistol,  Paddy,”  said  Kenton,  whose  tree 
was  the  nearest  to  the  advancing  savages. 

“ I can’t  move,”  said  Paddy.  “ Och,  murther  ! are  they 
coming  ?” 

At  that  moment  the  foremost  Indian,  some  twenty  paces 
in  advance  of  the  rest,  sprang  forward,  unconscious  of  the 
close  vicinity  of  Kenton,  and,  bestriding  Paddy,  stooped 
down  to  scalp  him.  Just  when  the  knife  touched  the  skin, 
and  when  Paddy  yelled  out  “ Murther!”  the  breech  of 
Kenton’s  gun  descended,  and  the  savage  fell  upon  his 
intended  victim. 

The  rest  of  the  Indians  rushed  past,  Kenton  himself 
being  forced  to  fly  before  them,  until  they  were  opposed  by 
Boone,  McSwine,  Charles,  and  their  brave  comrades,  who 
sprang  from  their  trees  and  offered  battle  hand-to-hand. 
The  Indians  faltered  a moment  and  then  retreated.  They 
snatched  up  their  fallen  chief  who  lay  across  Paddy’s  body 
and  bore  him  along.  One  of  them  strove  to  drag  the  sup- 
posed dead  Irishman  by  the  leg,  not  having  time  to  scalp 
him  there.  But  this  was  resisted  by  Paddy  with  all  his 
might.  He  kicked  and  yelled  so  astoundingly  that  the 
Indian  relinquished  his  hold  and  fled  with  the  rest.  And 
Paddy,  knowing  it  woull  be  useless  to  counterfeit  death 


180 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


any  longer,  sprang  up  and  valorously  fired  his  pistol.  He 
then  jumped  behind  Kenton’s  tree.  It  was  all  the  work 
of  an  instant.  Moments  were  precious  when  men  were 
loading  their  rifles  and  foes  were  exposed  to  view.  But  the 
Indians  soon  vanished,  bearing  away  their  dead. 

“ Come  on,  my  brave  comrades !”  cried  Paddy,  now  in 
advance  of  all  the  whites.  “ We’ve  defated  ’em.  They’re 
retrating,  the  savage  blackguards  1 And  one  of  ’em  was 
astraddle  of  Paddy  Pence  ! But  Paddy  pistholed  him,  the 
impident  blackguard ! Charge,  men,  charge ! They’re 
retrating !” 

Paddy  wras  not  mistaken.  Charles  understood  the  pur- 
port of  the  yells  and  whoops  of  the  discomfited  savages. 
Content  to  recover  the  bodies  of  their  slain,  they  wTere 
retreating  precipitately. 

“Now  let  us  make  tracks  ourselves,”  said  Kenton,  lead- 
ing the  way  toward  the  horses. 

“Yes,”  said  Boone  ; “we  cannot  be  gone  too  soon.  Our 
pursuers  will  come  up  quickly,  and  the  attack  will  be 
renewed  if  we  tarry.” 

“Mr.  Bone,”  said  Paddy,  “did  you  saa  ony  one  fall 
when  I fired  me  pisthol  ?” 

Boone  made  no  reply. 

“He’s  jealous!”  said  Paddy.  “But,  Misther  Kenton, 
you  can  bear  witness  that  I fired  the  last  gun,  and  that  I 
was  the  foremost  man  afther  the  inemy  when  they  retrated.” 

Kenton,  too,  paid  no  attention  to  Paddy,  but  hurried 
toward  the  horses,  now  the  object  of  his  solicitude,  for  he 
could  not  be  induced  to  leave  any  of  them  (even  the  super- 
numerary ones)  behind. 

“And  did  ye  not  saa  it,  Mr.  Charles?”  persisted  Paddy. 

“ This  is  no  time  for  nonsense  !”  said  Charles.  “Assist 
me  in  placing  Julia  on  her  horse.” 

And  Hugh  McSwine  likewise  turned  his  back  on  Paddy 
as  he  approached  him,  and,  aided  by  Yan  Wiggens,  who 
had  behaved  with  perfect  coolness  during  the  conflict,  suc- 
ceeded in  placing  the  dead  Scotchmen  on  horses  before 
their  comrades. 


# SECOND  SERIES. 


181 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

TOE  AMBUSCADE — THE  NIGHT  SURPRISE — CROSSING  THE 
OHIO — LETTERS  FROM  HOME. 

The  party  were  soon  remounted,  and  resumed  the 
flight  at  a brisker  pace  than  ever.  Charles  rode  at  the 
side  of  Julia,  a little  in  advance  of  the  rest,  and  their 
course  was  over  the  eminence  in  the  plain  where  they  had 
at  first  discovered  the  Indians. 

Julia  was  very  pale,  for  she  had  seen  the  dead  Scots 
placed  on  the  horses ; and,  as  they  still  bled  quite  freely, 
Charles  directed  them  to  be  kept  behind,  that  no  traces  of 
their  gore  might  be  seen  in  their  path. 

“Miss  Julia,”  said  Paddy,  who  had  been  riding  just  be- 
hind, expatiating  on  his  feats  to  Mr.  Jones,  wTho  listened 
carelessly,  singing  one  of  the  thanksgiving  psalms  of 
David,  “ I was  the  last  man  who  shot  an  Indian.  I was 
before  all  the  rest  of  our  men  when  the  savages  fled  aw’ay, 

I was  down  on  me  face ” 

“ Down,  Paddy  ?”  asked  Julia,  in  surprise. 

“Yes,  be  jabers  ! down,  and  almost  sculped!  A dead 

chafe  was  lying  across  me ” 

“ Paddy,  are  you  really  in  earnest  V 
“ Arnest,  is  it  ? Raal  arnest ! Isn’t  it,  Misther  Charles  ?” 
“That  part  is  true,”  said  Charles,  with  a slight  smile. 
“ Kenton  had  broken  the  Indian’s  head  as  he  stooped  down 
to  scalp  Paddy,  whom  he  supposed  to  be  dead.  And  I,  too, 
at  first  supposed  you  were  gone,  Paddy,  and  am  rejoiced 
to  find  it  was  a mistake.” 

“ And  so  am  I,  upon  me  sowl ! But  it  was  me  who 
caused  the  blackguard  savage  to  make  the  mistake,  and 
that  was  the  raison  of  his  death ; and  I may  dacently  say 
I killed  him.  Yes,  Miss  Julia,  he  fell  upon  me,  and  he  lay 
on  my  stomach  as  heavy  as  a nightmare.  I couldn’t  move 
hand  or  fut.  Then  prisently  the  others  came  and  lifted 
him  off;  and  one  of  the  blackguards  had  the  impidence  to 
saze  me  by  the  fut,  and  pull  me  toward  the  bushes  to 

16 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


132 


sculp  me— och,  murther!”  cried  Paddy,  placing  his  hand 
on  his  head.  “ But  I sent  him  sprawling  in  the  laves  with 
a kick,  and  he  let  go  his  holt ; and  I’m  sure  he  was  as  pale 
as  ashes  at  the  thought  of  a dead  man  kicking  him!  Then 
I pulled  up  my  pisthol  and  fired  at  the  whole  crowd  o’  ’em, 
and  that  was  the  last  gun  shot  off  in  the  battle.” 

“ And  so  you  were  the  last  to  fire,  Paddy,”  said  Julia. 

“The  last  to  fire,  is  it?  Yes — that  is, — I mane, — och, 
now,  Miss  Julia,  don’t  be  afther  saying  that  same ! And, 
if  it’s  true  I didn’t  shoot  before,  I was  down  flat  on  me 
face,  wid  no  tra  before  me  and  in  full  view  of  the  whole 
army  of  savages.  And  didn’t  Mr.  Kenton  tell  me  to  lie 
still,  and  if  I budged  they’d  raddle  me  with  their  bullets?” 

“What  caused  you  to  fall,  Paddy?”  asked  Julia,  her 
curiosity  somewhat  excited. 

“ Och,  murther  ! And  to-be-sure  it  was  one  of  their  on- 
dacent  bullets.  I was  jist  paaping  from  behint  the  root  of 
the  tra,  and  one  of  the  blackguards  had  the  ill-manners  to 
aim  his  rifle  at  me  head.  The  bullet,  I suppose,  would  hi  ve 
hit  me  atwane  the  eyes  if  I hadn’t  dodged.  As  it  was,  it 
struck  the  top  o’  me  cap,  and  cut  off  me  cone-tail  be  tie 
roots !” 

“ And  did  that  make  you  fall  ?” 

“ Didn’t  it  ? Miss  Julia,  you  were  niver  shot  in  that 
way,  I know,  or  you  wouldn’t  ask  the  question.  I was 
stunned,  and  fell  down  and  rolled  over.  And  the  savage 
who  kilt  me,  not  saaing  Mr.  Kenton  near  by,  ran  out  to 
snatch  me  sculp.  Then  Mr.  Kenton  missed  cutting  his 
tail  away  and  struck  him  in  the  forehead.  Down  he  fell 
as  dead  as  a door-nail.  And  then  the  battle  began  in 
arnest,  fighting  over  his  worthless  corpse  and  over  Paddy’s 
body!  And  that’s  the  truth  of  it,  Miss  Julia,  and  I hope 
it’ll  be  in  the  London  papers.  I’m  covered  all  over  wid 
blood,  and  I’ve  jist  come  out  of  the  thickest  of  the  fight. 
And  here’s  the  hill  where  we  first  saw  the  inemy.  Mur- 
ther! Och,  Lord!”  cried  he,  darting  past  Charles  and 
Julia,  and  evincing  the  greatest  terror  on  beholding  an  In- 
dian child  crouching  in  the  tall  grass  near  the  path. 

“The  poor  infant,”  said  Charles,  pausing,  “has  been 
placed  there  by  its  mother,  not  supposing  we  would  pass  in 
this  direction.” 

“ Poor  thing  !”  said  Julia.  “ See  how  still  it  is.  Paddy’s 


SECOND  SERIES. 


183 


horse  has  thrown  dust  in  its  face,  and  jet  it  does  not 
cry.” 

“No,”  said  Charles.  “Like  the  young  jartndge,  it 
remains  in  silence  where  its  mother  placed  it.  It  is  not 
two  years  old,  and  yet  would  bite  your  finger  if  you  at- 
tempted to  seize  it.  We  will  pass  on.  But  I will  assure 
its  mother  of  its  safety.”  And  he  did  so,  in  a loud  voice, 
in  the  Indian  dialect.  A moment  after,  the  mother,  who 
had  been  lying  concealed  only  a few  paces  apart,  in  a small 
chasm,  sprang  forward,  seized  the  child,  and  fled  toward 
the  w7oods. 

“For  shame,  Paddy!”  cried  Julia,  seeing  the  valorous 
Indian-fighter  aim  his  pistol  at  the  flying  woman  and  pull 
the  trigger. 

“Och,  it’s  not  loaded,  Miss  Julia,”  said  he.  “I  didn’t 
know  if  there  mightn’t  be  others  with  guns  and  tomahawks 
all  around  us.  Misther  Charles  knows  they  can  hide  in 
grass  not  an  inch  long.  And  sure  you  won’t  belave  it 
was  the  baby  that  made  me  dodge.  It  was  the  twinty 
warriors  I didn’t  know  but  there  might  be  hid  and  aiming 
at  us.”  And  Paddy  hastily  rejoined  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones, 
and  listened  in  silence  to  the  song  he  had  never  ceased  to 
articulate  during  the  incident  of  the  Indian  infant  and  its 
mother. 

“ This  is  a specimen  of  life  in  the  wild  woods,  Julia,” 
said  Charles,  “ such  as  you  have  heard  related  during  winter 
evenings  before  the  cheerful  fire.  But  you  find  it  not  so 
pleasant  as  you  anticipated.” 

“ If  it  were  only  relieved  of  its  dangers — its  butcheries  !” 
said  the  pale  girl,  with  a faint  smile.  “ Still,  it  would  be 
no  sport  that  a poor  maiden  should  voluntarily  witness ; 
but  captives  must  submit  to  circumstances.  I hope  there 
will  be  no  more  slaughter.  Do  you  think  there  will  be 
more  fighting  ?” 

“ It  is  probable.  But  wTe  shall  be  able  to  repel  any 
attack.  I do  not  think  they  have  exceeding  twenty  war- 
riors at  Chillicothe  capable  of  pursuing  us.  They  are  still 
killing  buffalo.” 

“ And  Mr.  Kenton,  I learn,  has  deprived  them  of  their 
best  horses.  But,  if  twenty  pursue,  and  unite  with  as 
many  others  on  the  battle-ground  we  are  leaving,  still  they 
will  greatly  exceed  us  in  number.” 


184  WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 

44  But  we  shall  surpass  them  in  skill.  Boone  and  Kenton 
are  equal  to  twenty  ordinary  warriors.  Then  there  is 
Hugh  McSwine ! Oh,  Julia,  he  is  terrible  in  battle,  and 
slays  flis  foe  with  the  keenest  delight.  Some  one  dear  to 
him  must  have  been  a victim : he  seems  actuated  by  an  in- 
satiable thirst  for  blood.” 

46 And  have  you  not  killed  some  of  them,  Charles?” 
asked  Julia. 

44 No.  I am  sure  I did  not;  and  I hope  it  may  never 
be  necessary  for  me  to  do  so.  They  will  follow  us,  how- 
ever, and  probably  more  blood  will  flow.  If  we  had  none 
of  their  horses,  they  might  abandon  the  pursuit  when  they 
learn  we  have  been  the  victors  in  the  first  battle.” 

44  Then  why  not  leave  them  ?”  asked  Julia. 

“ I should  have  no  objection.  But  the  rest  would  never 
consent.  Yet  we  shall  reach  the  river  in  safety.  We 
cannot  conceal  our  trail;  but  there  are  many  narrow 
ravines  suited  for  ambuscades,  and  our  foes  will  be  very 
circumspect  and  tardy  in  the  pursuit.  And  these  exciting 
perils,  Julia,  will  make  our  narrative  the  more  interesting 
when,  in  old  age,  we  sit  by  the  blazing  hearth,  of  winter 
evenings,  and  describe  them.  You  must  keep  a journal, 
beginning  with  your  capture  and  ending  with  our  nup- 
tials !” 

The  maiden  blushed,  but  did  not  chide  him;  and  she 
determined,  if  she  escaped  death  in  the  wilderness,  to  pre- 
serve in  writing  a narrative  of  her  adventures.  This  she 
did  in  letters  to  Kate  Livingston  and  in  a journal  which 
we  have  been  permitted  to  read  and  transcribe. 

44 Mercy  on  us!  What  is  that?”  asked  Julia,  hearing 
an  awful  sound,  when  they  had  proceeded  only  a mile  or 
two  from  the  scene  of  the  recent  conflict. 

44  Murther  !”  cried  Paddy,  spurring  forward.  “ We  shall 
have  to  fight  agin.  I know  that  voice  !” 

44 Ah!”  said  Julia,  44 1 recognise  it  too.  It  is  Peter 
Shaver’s  ass,  scenting  the  blood  of  the  slain.  Our  pursuers 
have  arrived !” 

44  They  will  be  likely  to  pause  at  the  scene  of  the  recent 
action,”  said  Charles,  44  when  they  learn  its  disastrous 
result.  And  Peter  is  among  them.  No  doubt  he  had 
sense  enough  to  escape  killing  by  denouncing  us  and  offer- 
mg  to  join  our  enemies.  But  he  will  do  no  injury,  and  he 


SECOND  SERIES. 


185 


must  not  be  fired  at  if  he  appears  within  range  of  our 
rifles,  lie  will  desert  to  us  the  first  opportunity.” 

A shot  was  heard  fired  by  one  of  the  party  who  had 
lingered  behind.  This  attracted  no  especial  notice  at  the 
time.  But  soon  after  Hugh  McSwine  and  Skippie  (the 
latter  still  having  the  bundle  he  had  brought  from  New 
Jersey)  came  up  at  full  gallop;  and  Skippie,  pausing  an 
instant  near  Charles,  said — 

“He  did!” 

“Who?”  demanded  Charles. 

“Hugh.” 

“ It  was  his  gun,  then.  And  Hugh  never  misses  his 
mark.” 

“No.  Got  the  scalp. ” 

Charles  turned  his  head  and  beheld  Hugh,  some  few 
paces  behind,  stretching  a scalp  on  a hazel-hoop  as  he  rode 
along. 

“ This  is  horrible  !”  said  Julia,  pale  and  shrinking,  for 
she  comprehended  all,  and  had  even  glanced  at  the  bloody 
Hugh.  And,  besides,  the  ass  of  Peter  Shaver  was  still 
faintly  heard  in  the  distance. 

Boone  came  forward  and  pointed  to  some  dim  and  dis- 
tant heights  before  them,  which  were  joyfully  announced  as 
the  northern  barriers  of  the  Ohio  River.  There  was,  how- 
ever, no  assurance  that  they  could  elude  their  pursuers  and 
pass  the  broad  stream  in  safety.  A raft  would  have  to  be 
constructed ; the  weather  must  be  calm,  and  the  water 
smooth,  before  they  might  venture  to  embark. 

These  difficulties  and  contingencies  being  apparent  to 
Boone  and  Kenton,  a hasty  consultation  was  held,  as  they 
proceeded  at  a smart  pace ; and  it  was  determined  by  the 
majority — and  Hugh  McSwine,  of  course,  voted  with  the 
majority — that  they  would  fight  another  battle.  Charles 
saw  the  necessity  of  repelling  their  pursuers,  but  did  not 
urge  it. 

They  were  now  arrived  at  the  beginning  of  a series  of 
narrow  ravines  running  between  lofty  hills,  and  here  it  was 
resolved  to  rebuke  the  foe.  It  was  in  the  second  of  these 
ravines  the  first  ambuscade  was  formed,  it  being  deemed 
good  policy  to  embolden  their  pursuers  by  permitting  them 
to  pass  through  the  first  in  safety. 

The  men  were  stationed  in  places  of  concealment  behind 

16* 


i ad 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES ! 


detached  rocks  and  under  evergreen  bushes,  command- 
ing the  path  through  the  narrow  defile.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Jones,  although  he  had  no  special  objection  to  fighting  the 
heathen  in  defence  of  his  Christian  friends,  yet  thought  it 
proper,  in  view  of  his  peaceful  calling,  to  ride  forward  and 
remain  with  Julia  during  the  carnage.  But,  before  doing 
so,  he  made  one  of  his  characteristic  prayers  in  presence 
of  the  assembled  party,  and  the  Scotchmen,  particularly, 
responded  with  a loud  64  Amen  !” 

Not  more  than  an  hour  had  elapsed  before  the  foremost 
of  the  savages  came  in  view.  They  had  passed  through 
the  first  valley  in  safety,  and  did  not  seem  to  apprehend  an 
ambush  in  the  second  one.  Kenton  recognised  the  owner 
of  his  steed  in  the  foremost  Indian,  who  seemed  to  be 
pointing  at  the  foot-prints  of  his  horse,  which  he  could 
doubtless  distinguish  from  the  rest.  They  came  in  a long 
file,  not  more  than  two  abreast,  and  the  foremost  of  them 
were  suffered  to  pass  the  concealed  whites  before  the  word 
was  given  to  fire.  Then  a volley,  consisting,  by  pre- 
arrangement, of  but  one-half  the  rifles,  was  discharged. 
Never  were  savages  more  completely  surprised.  They 
sprang  in  every  direction,  hoping  to  elude  the  aim  of  their 
foes.  44  Ugh  ! ho  ! yough  !”  were  uttered  by  some,  and  by 
others  the  anglicism  “Bern!”  And  yet,  as  Boone  and 
Kenton  were  among  those  who  had  reserved  their  fire  for 
the  second  discharge,  only  two  or  three  fell  under  the  aim 
of  the  Scots,  and  one,  of  course,  by  the  fatal  lead  of  Hugh 
McSwine.  Most  of  the  men  had  fired  too  high. 

At  the  second  discharge  five  or  six  fell,  killed  and 
wounded,  and  the  rest  fled  precipitately,  yelling  terrifi- 
cally, and  without  striking  a blow. 

The  whites  did  not  pursue  them,  nor  even  scalp  their 
fallen  victims,  but  resolved  without  delay  to  resume  their 
march  toward  the  Ohio  River.  One  of  the  Indians,  how- 
ever, (whom  Kenton  recognised,)  had  sprung  forward  be- 
tween them  and  the  place  where  Julia  had  been  deposited. 
They  had  not  aimed  at  him,  because  he  was  the  foremost  of 
the  party  and  separated  from  the  rest. 

This  Indian  soon  came  to  where  the  horses  had  been 
placed,  in  a little  nook  out  of  range  of  the  rifles.  Paddy 
had  charge  of  them,  and,  not  scanning  the  savage  closely, 
supposed  him  to  be  Kenton ; and  they  really  resembled 


SECOND  SERIES. 


187 


each  other  in  stature,  and  were  costumed  and  painted 
similarly. 

44  Mr.  Kenton,”  said  Paddy,  44  and  is  it  all  over  so  soon? 
But  what  have  ye  done  wid  yer  gun  ?”  The  Indian  had 
thrown  down  his  rifle,  and  his  tomahawk  had  fallen  from 
his  belt  as  he  piunged  through  the  ravine. 

44Dern!”  said  the  Indian.  44  My  hoss  ! Kenton  d 

boss-steal!  A white-man  tief!”  and  he  proceeded,  with  all 
the  haste  in  his  power,  to  mount  one  of  the  horses  ere 
Paddy  could  recover  his  presence  of  mind.  Hearing  the 
whites  returning,  the  savage  dashed  away,  and  was  no  sooner 
out  of  sight,  having  turned  an  abrupt  angle  of  rocks,  than 
Paddy  fired  his  pistol ; and  a few  moments  after  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Jones’s  pistol  was  heard. 

44  Och,  ye  cowards !”  cried  Paddy,  meeting  the  party 
returning.  44  Or  did  you  mane  to  let  that  big  blackguard 
savage  come  to  me  on  purpose?” 

44  What  have  you  done  with  him?”  asked  Hugh. 

44  Where’s  my  horse  ?”  shouted  Kenton,  seeing  his  best 
steed  was  no  longer  with  the  rest  of  the  animals. 

44  The  blackguard  savage  mounted  him  ! And,  as  St. 
Pater  is  my  judge,  I thought  it  was  you.  But  you  naadn't 
fume  and  fret  about  it,  Misther  Kenton ! Paddy’s  the  boy 
to  fax  the  prowling  red  thieves.  Didn’t  ye  hear  me 
pisthol  ?” 

44 1 heard  two,”  said  Charles. 

44  It  was  only  the  acho,”  said  Paddy,  44  which  desaved 
ye.  I peppered  him  !” 

44  Where  is  he  ?”  asked  Boone. 

44 And  where’s  my  horse?”  demanded  Kenton. 

44  Be  aisy,  Misther  Bone.  If  that  is  a spare  rifle  you 
have,”  (he  had  picked  up  the  Indian’s,)  “plase  let  me  have 
it.  This  pisthol  won’t  kill  at  wanst.  I shat  the  varmint 
through  the  lungs,  but  he  won’t  fall  for  a few  manutes,  and 
thin  we’ll  git  yer  horse  agin,  Misther  Kenton.” 

Kenton  uttered  a fierce  malediction,  while  the  rest  only 
vented  peals  of  laughter,  and  the  whole  party  hastened 
toward  the  jutting  rock  where  the  Indian  had  disappeared 
before  Paddy  fired. 

44  Good!”  cried  Kenton,  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  as 
he  beheld  his  fine  steed  standing  near  the  place  where  Julia 
had  awaited  the  issue  of  the  strife.  44  And  there’s  the  yel- 


188 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


low  rascal  who  stole  him,”  he  continued,  seeing  Mr.  Jones 
gazing  at  the  prostrate  Indian,  who  lay  perfectly  motion- 
less in  the  path,  while  the  horse  stood  over  him,  snorting, 
with  distended  nostrils,  arched  neck,  and  eyes  flashing 
fearfully. 

UI  told  you  so,  be  jabers!”  cried  Paddy,  running  for- 
ward. “ Didn’t  I say  me  pisthol  had  done  his  basiness  V' 

“I  have  no  taste  for  such  exercises,”  said  Mr.  Jones: 
“and  I would  not  be  sorry  if  it  could  be  made  to  appear 
that  it  was  not  my  ball  which  smote  the  heathen.” 

“Yer  ball?  Did  ye  say  yer  bullet?  And  did  ye  shoot 
at  him  too,  Mr.  Jones?” 

“ I held  out  my  weapon  and  pulled  the  trigger.  He 
fell.” 

“ And  have  you  forgotten  how  it  was  when  ye  shot  the 
turkey  ? And  was  not  the  report  of  yer  pisthol  but  the 
revarberation  of  mine  ?” 

“Unluckily,  Paddy,”  said  Charles,  blowing  the  smoke 
from  the  barrel  of  the  reverend  gentleman’s  weapon,  “Mr. 
Jones’s  pistol  is  empty  this  time,  and  yet  warm  from  the 
recent  discharge.” 

“ And  warm  is  it  from  the  racent  discharge  ? And 
mine  is  cowld,  because  it  was  discharged  first.  And  are  not 
our  bullets  of  the  same  size  ? And  would  any  blackguard 
Indian  fall,  afther  being  kilt  by  a pisthol,  before  riding 
some  distance?  I shall  claim  the  credit  of  killing  him  me- 
self,  in  spite  of  your  inganious  argyments.  And  I’ll  sculp 
him  too!” 

But  when  he  laid  hold  of  the  Indian,  finding  he  still 
breathed,  he  sprang  back  in  alarm  and  begged  the  loan  of 
a rifle  or  tomahawk  to  dispatch  him. 

“No  !”  said  Julia,  advancing,  pale  and  tearful,  “ do  not 
imitate  the  savages.  Rather  set  them  an  example  of  for- 
bearance and  humanity  !” 

“ He  is  not  dead,  and  will  immediately  recover,”  said 
Boone,  finding  that  the  ball  had  glanced  from  his  temple, 
having  only  stunned  him.  This  proved  true ; and,  after 
the  lapse  of  a few  minutes,  the  Indian  was  so  far  recovered 
as  to  be  able  to  ride  one  of  the  horses — a silent,  sullen 
captive. 

The  party  now  urged  forward  theif  steeds,  and  soon 
entered  another  narrow  ravine.  This  they  passed  through 


SECOND  SERIES. 


189 


without  halting,  and  continued  their  journey  toward  the 
river. 

They  knew  that  considerable  time  would  be  consumed  by 
their  pursuers  in  burying  their  dead,  and  that  they  would 
hesitate  long  before  plunging  into  the  next  defile.  Hence 
they  hoped  to  escape  further  molestation. 

During  the  afternoon  they  arrived  on  the  northern  bank 
of  the  Ohio ; and  many  of  them  cast  longing  looks  at  the 
opposite  shore,  which  once  attained,  it  was  the  general 
supposition  they  would  be  in  a place  of  safety.  But  Boone 
and  Kenton  would  not  consent  to  the  prevalent  desire  of 
the  less  experienced  to  halt  and  set  about  the  construction 
of  a raft.  There  were  no  natural  defences  at  that  point 
to  enable  them  to  keep  a hostile  party  of  superior  numbers 
at  bay  during  the  preparations  for  the  passage.  And,  be- 
sides, a strong  wind  prevailed,  and  the  waves  ran  too  high 
for  any  raft  to  ride  in  security.  Nor  would  it  answer  to 
remain  stationary  until  the  subsidence  of  the  gale,  for 
the  Indians  would  be  upon  them.  Kenton  had  been  cap- 
tured once  with  a fine  lot  of  horses,  by  thus  remaining  in- 
active until  the  foe,  following  his  trail,  surprised  him. 

Profiting  by  his  experience  on  that  melancholy  occasion, 
Kenton  led  the  way  along  the  path  down  the  river,  so  that 
the  distance  between  them  and  their  pursuers  might  not  be 
diminished. 

Mr.  Jones  expressed  his  fervent  thanks  that  he  had  not 
been  made  an  instrument  of  death  in  the  hands  of  his 
heavenly  Master,  and  often  congratulated  himself,  as  he 
rode  along,  during  the  pauses  in  his  song,  on  the  recovery 
of  the  savage. 

Paddy  was  chagrined  that  he  did  not  die,  and  die  by  his 
hand.  He  could  no  longer  claim  the  credit  of  the  stunning 
wound,  as  the  effect  of  the  concussion  was  evidently  instan- 
taneous. But  he  was  consoled  in  some  measure  by  receiv- 
ing the  Indian’s  rifle,  which  Boone  loaned  him,  and  by 
the  loss  of  Van  Wiggens’s  dog,  which  had  not  been  seen 
since  the  battle,  if  battle  it  could  be  called.  The  latter  in- 
cident afforded  him  a sort  of  malicious  pleasure,  inasmuch 
as  the  Dutchman  insisted  upon  having  seen  the  mark  of 
Paddy’s  ball  some  twenty  feet  high  on  the  face  of  the  per- 
pendicular cliff,  and  had  otherwise  depreciated  the  merits 
:f  the  Irishman. 


190 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


And,  as  they  rode  along  the  path,  which  sometimes 
diverged  from  the  river  where  enormous  masses  of  rocks 
had  descended  to  the  water’s  edge,  the  inquiry  was  passed 
along  the  line  if  any  one  had  seen  Peter  Shaver  in.  the 
ambuscade.  No  one  had  recognised  him,  but  several  had 
heard  the  familiar  voice  of  his  ass  after  the  slaughter. 
Van  Wiggens  had  no  doubt  Peter  was  among  the  savages, 
and  seemed  to  think  that  Watch,  his  dog,  had  seen  him 
and  followed  him.  This  was  a source  of  hope,  for  he 
doubted  not  he  should  some  day  see  Peter’s  face  again. 

Thus  they  continued  without  interruption  until  the  au- 
tumnal . sun,  blood-red  and  magnified  apparently  to  an 
enormous  size,  sank  down  before  them ; for  their  faces  were 
toward  the  West.  They  now  searched  for  one  of  those 
impregnable  fastnesses  in  the  hills,  with  its  natural  de- 
fences of  rocks  and  fissures,  in  whichT  to  encamp  for  the 
night ; and,  when  it  was  found,  the  tents  were  erected, 
the  hungry  permitted  to  eat  and  the  weary  to  rest.  The 
wind  continuing  somewhat  boisterous,  it  was  the  opinion,  of 
Boone  and  Kenton  that  a passage  over  the  river  could  not 
be  effected  until  the  following  day. 

A consultation  was  then  held  in  regard  to  the  fate  of  their 
prisoner ; and  as  Boone  and  Kenton,  as  well  as  Julia,  were 
in  favour  of  liberating  him,  it  was  so  determined.  But  he 
was  compelled  to  swim  across  the  river  a few  miles  back,  in 
full  view  of  two  of  his  captors.  Pushing  a dry  log  before 
him,  he  launched  out  in  the  stream,  and  was  soon  beyond 
the  reach  of  rifles.  Then  he  yelled  like  an  enfranchised 
demon,  and  abused  his  enemies.  It  was  feared  their  mercy 
would  be  productive  of  only  evil,  as  is  sometimes  the  case 
when  extended  to  unworthy  objects.  However,  they  dis- 
missed this  Ground-Hog  (for  such  was  his  name)  from  their 
minds. 

After  a hearty  repast,  Kenton  and  several  of  the  most 
active  men  started  back  on  their  trail  to  discover,  if  pos- 
sible, the  camp-fire  of  their  pursuers. 

The  scout  proceeded  several  miles,  and  then  ascended  a 
high  eminence,  from  which  they  could  see  eastward  a still 
greater  distance;  but  no  fires  were  visible.  It  was  possible 
the  pursuit  had  been  abandoned,  and  such  was  their  report 
on  returning. 

And  now  a sense  of  comparative  security  pervaded  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


191 


encampment.  Julia  and  Charles  sent  for  Skippie,  resolved 
to  read  the  letters  he  had  brought  from  their  friends.  But 
Skippie  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  although  he  had  been 
seen  since  twilight.  Doubtless,  as  Hugh  McSwine  asserted, 
he  was  out  alone,  reconnoitering  the  country  in  every 
- direction. 

Disappointed  in  this,  Charles  and  Julia  congratulated 
themselves  upon  the  prospect  of  a speedy  deliverance  from 
their  perils. 

An  hour  after,  Skippie  came  hastily  into  the  tent,  fol- 
lowed by  Paddy. 

“And  you  won’t  tell  me  what  you’ve  sane?”  exclaimed 
Paddy.  “ But  I’ll  hear  it  in  spite  o’  ye,  ye  unfinished  son 
of  a sawny !” 

“Dirk!”  said  Skippie,  exposing  the  handle  of  his  wea- 
pon, and  darting  a look  of  defiance  at  Paddy. 

“Dirk,  is  it?  Well,  don’t  dirk  me!  I’m  Misther 
Charles’s  friend,  you  know,  and  the  deadly  inemy  of  the 
blackguard  savages.” 

“Your  news,  Skippie?”  said  Charles. 

“Twenty!”  said  Skippie,  pointing  in  a westerly  direc- 
tion and  in  the  line  of  their  march  for  the  next  day. 

“Twenty  Indians  in  front  of  us!”  said  Julia,  in  tones 
of  sadness. 

“ They  are  not  our  pursuers,  at  all  events,”  said  Charles. 

And,  when  Skippie  had  described  them  and  the  location 
of  their  camp  in  his  laconic  but  graphic  manner,  Boone 
announced  without  hesitation  that  it  was  a party  from  Paint 
Creek  going  over  into  Kentucky  on  a predatory  expedition; 
and,  no  doubt,  the  object  of  their  attack  was  his  station  on 
the  Kentucky  River,  called  Boonsboro’.  He  had  seen  their 
trail,  but  did  not  mention  it,  as  it  was  not  fresh.  They 
must  have  been  encamped  several  days  where  Skippie  disco- 
vered them,  perhaps  awaiting  the  arrival  of  reinforcements. 

A council  being  held,  it  was  resolved  to  attack  them  in 
the  night.  They  occupied  an  important  position  in  the  line 
of  march  for  the  next  day.  The  Indians  had,  no  doubt, 
been  making  preparations  for  crossing  over  into  Kentucky, 
and  probably  possessed  canoes,  which,  if  captured,  would 
serve  an  excellent  purpose. 

Arrangements  were  made  to  set  out  immediately.  Skip- 
pie, who  could  move  with  less  noise  than  any  one  in  camp. 


192 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


was  despatched  on  their  back  trail  to  guard  against  any 
sudden  surprise  from  that  quarter.  They  did  not  appre- 
hend immediate  danger  from  their  repulsed  pursuers ; but 
some  other  roving  party,  led  by  renegade  white  men,  might 
possibly  fall  upon  their  camp. 

Kenton  was  the  guide  selected  to  lead  them  against  the 
warriors  encamped  near  the  river.  Familiar  with  the  fea- 
tures of  the  country,  having  often  traversed  every  hill  and 
ravine,  the  few  words  uttered  by  Skippie  had  made  him 
sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  locality  of  the  Indians,  lie 
nad  himself  encamped  there  repeatedly. 

Paddy  desired  to  guard  the  camp,  and  especially  to  pro- 
tect Miss  Julia.  But  this  was  objected  to  by  Charles,  and 
"■he  Rev.  Mr.  Jones  was  designated  for  that  purpose.  Nor 
would  Kenton  suffer  Paddy  again  to  have  the  care  of  the 
horses.  Therefore,  much  against  his  will,  he  had  no  alter- 
native but  to  march. 

They  set  out,  treading  noiselessly  in  each  other’s  tracks, 
marching  in  single  file,  in  the  manner  of  the-  Indians. 
Boone  had  drilled  them  so  well  that  the  whole  party  stepped 
simultaneously,  making  but  one  sound,  and  that  a low,  dull 
one,  the  foremost  man  (Kenton)  having  carefully  removed 
or  softly  crushed  the  leaves  that  lay  in  the  path. 

“Be  jabers !”  said  Paddy,  speaking  to  Van  Wiggens, 
who  was  the  next  man  in  front  of  him,  “ it  would  be  a good 
thing  now  to  have  your  dog  wid  us.” 

“ Tam  dem  !”  said  Van  Wiggens ; “ if  tey  hurt  a hair  of 
my  Vatch ” 

“You  must  not  speak  so  loudly,”  whispered  Charles,  who 
brought  up  the  rear,  stepping  in  the  footprints  of  Paddy. 

The  moon  was  shining  brightly,  for  there  was  not  a cloud 
in  the  sky.  A long  silence  ensued,  interrupted  only  by  the 
low  sound  of  more  than  twenty  feet  falling  softly  to  the 
earth.  And,  as  they  drew  near  the  smouldering  embers 
round  which  the  slumbering  Indians  reposed  in  fancied 
security,  their  progress  became  very  slow,  and  their  scarcely- 
perccptible  advance  was  no  longer  attended  with  any  noise 
which  might  have  been  detected  by  the  keenest  ear  at  the 
distance  of  a dozen  paces. 

“Misther  Charles,”  said  Paddy,  in  a low  whisper,  “do 
you  think  there  is  ginerally  as  much  fighting  done  by  the 
tail  of  a line  like  this  as  the  head  o’  it?”  He  asked  this 


SECOND  SERIES. 


193 


question  when  a curve  in  the  path  enabled  him  to  see  the 
men  in  front  winding  along  like  a huge  serpent  under  the 
trees,  through  whose  boughs  the  rays  of  the  moon  were 
streaming  brightly. 

“It  is  often  the  post  of  honour,’’  said  Charles. 

Paddy  thought  he  would  prefer  a post  of  safety ; but  he 
could  not  comprehend  how  the  rear  of  the  line  would  bo 
exposed  to  as  much  danger  as  the  head  of  it,  and  he  so  ex- 
pressed himself.  But  he  was  informed  that  the  whole  line 
would  glide  silently  round  the  sleeping  Indians  and  be 
formed  in  the  shape  of  a crescent. 

“Phase,  Misther  Charles,”  said  he,  “have  me  put  in  the 
maddle, — in  the  bow  of  the  moon.” 

“ It  cannot  be  done  now,  Paddy,  without  danger  of  dis- 
covery. You  have  the  position  you  asked  for,  and  you 
must  keep  it.  Say  no  more,  for  yonder  is  the  enemy’s 
camp.” 

The  camp  of  the  Indians  was  situated  near  the  mouth 
of  a valley  opening  on  the  river.  But  a stream  of  water, 
emptying  into  the  Ohio,  with  its  steep  alluvial  embank- 
ments, was  now  between  the  sleeping  Indians  and  their  ^ 
assailants,  and  the  latter  had  to  pass  down  the  brook  some 
twenty  paces  before  there  was  any  possibility  of  crossing 
over.  Kenton  and  Boone  stood  several  minutes  in  breath- 
less silence  opposite  the  slumbering  Indians,  the  outlines  of 
whose  forms  were  dimly  visible,  and  then  moved  on  noise- 
lessly toward  the  moss-covered  trunk  of  an  enormous  tree 
that  lay  across  the  stream  a few  paces  farther  below.  This 
tree,  some  eight  feet  in  diameter,  Kenton  remembered  dis- 
tinctly, having  often  passed  over  it.  It  had  been  lying 
there,  perhaps,  for  a century,  and  its  damp  moss  and  soft 
exterior  afforded  a sure  and  noiseless  footing. 

The  head  of  the  line  passed  over  the  tree  and  returned 
up  the  stream  on  the  opposite  side,  diverging  from  it,  how- 
ever, so  as  to  enclose  the  enemy.  Paddy  shivered  with 
dread  when  he  sawT  the  foremost  of  the  men  thus  counter- 
marching and  closely  surrounding  the  unconscious  savages. 

It  was  a moment  of  painful  suspense.  Charles  could  dis- 
tinctly hear  poor  Paddy’s  heart  palpitating  violently  when 
they  were  midway  on  the  huge  trunk  and  the  word  to  halt 
was  whispered  back  along  the  line.  A wolf  had  crept  up 
co  the  smouldering  fire  and  snatched  a bone,  with  which  it 

17 


194 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


sprang  away  growling.  Several  of  the  Indians  moved  and 
uttered  some  words,  but  did  not  lift  their  heads,  for  they 
recognised  the  sound  and  were  familiar  with  the 'prowling 
habits  of  the  animal.  It  is  probable  the  consciousness  of 
the  proximity  of  the  wolf  served  to  lull  them;  for  it  was 
not  likely  an  enemy  could  be  near  when  the  ravenous  beast 
was  in  their  midst.  None  but  Boone  and  Kenton  could 
have  approached  so  noiselessly;  and  the  Indians  did  not 
suppose  those  renowned  and  dangerous  foes  were  in  the 
vicinity. 

The  slumberers  being  composed,  the  sign  was  made  for 
the  men  to  resume  their  cautious  approach.  But,  when  a 
single  additional  step  had  been  taken,  another  pause  was 
ordered.  An  owl  flapped  up  from  the  feet  of  Boone,  where 
he  had  been  assailing  the  eyes  of  a deer’s  head  thrown 
aside  in  the  bushes.  It  was  one  of  the  largest  specimens 
of  those  birds  of  ill  omen ; and  it  now  hooted  loudly, 
perched  on  a bough  immediately  over  the  prostrate  Indians. 

“ Och,  nnirther  !”  said  Paddy. 

Charles  reached  forward  and  placed  his  hand  on  Paddy’s 
mouth. 

Several  of  the  Indians  stirred  again  and  uttered  inco- 
herent words.  But  the  owl  was  a familiar  bird,  and, 
supposing  he  had  been  alarmed  by  the  wolf,  they  slept 
again. 

Boone  and  Kenton,  having  reached  the  designated  point, 
only  awaited  the  closing  up  of  the  rear  of  the  line  to  begin 
the  slaughter.  Their  guns  were  at  their  shoulders,  their 
knives  loosened  in  their  sheaths,  and  each  had  selected 
his  victim  for  the  supposed  indispensable  sacrifice. 

But  when  Will  Van  Wiggens,  who,  from  his  corpulency, 
was  the  heaviest  man  of  the  party,  made  his  next  step 
midway  of  the  tree,  the  huge  rotten  trunk  sank  down  sud- 
denly, precipitating  the  men,  with  a thundering  sound  and 
a mighty  splash,  into  the  water  and  mud  beneath  ! 

So  sudden,  so  unlooked-for,  so  ludicrous,  was  this 
event,  that  the  men  who  aimed  their  rifles,  standing  with- 
in a few  feet  of  the  heads  of  the  Indians,  became  irresistibly 
convulsed  with  laughter,  and  fired  without  effect.  The  In- 
dians escaped  without  injury.  They  disappeared  in  the 
bushes,  their  ears  assailed  only  by  the  sounds  of  immode- 
rate laughter  ! But  they  fled  away,  leaving  their  guns  be- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


1U5 


hind,  amazed  at  such  ill-timed  merriment,  and  believing 
themselves  beset  by  evil  spirits. 

“Murther!”  cried  Paddy. 

u Tam  it!”  shouted  Van  Wiggens,  floundering  in  the 
quicksand.  The  wolf  howled  from  the  summit  of  a cliff. 
The  owl  was  mute,  his  glaring  eyeballs  fixed  in  astonish- 
ment. 

“ Oh  Lord ! Don’t  sculp  me ! I’ll  surrinder !”  con- 
tinued Paddy,  as  Charles  succeeded  in  dragging  him  out 
of  the  stream  by  the  heels. 

“ Open  your  eyes,”  said  Charles,  inexpressibly  diverted. 

u I can’t  saa  wid  ’em ! They’re  full  of  mud ! Oh, 
don’t  hit  me  on  the  head,  brave  Misther  savage  ! I’ve  been 
adopted  meself,  and  belong  to  a dacent  family.  Me  mither 
is  Diving  Duck,  and — is  it  you,  Misther  Charles  ?”  said 
he,  opening  his  eyes.  “ Upon  me  sowl,  I thought  I was 
draining ! Ye  see,  I was  shocked  by  the  fall,  and  me 
smses  was  wandering.  Don’t  mind  me  hasty  words,  if  ye 
plase,  Misther  Charles.  And  I hope  we  have  put  to  rout 
the  nasty  blackguards.  Have  we  kilt  ’em  all?” 

“ Not  one  remains  to  hurt  you,  Paddy,”  said  Charles, 
who  still  heard  the  distant  yells  of  the  flying  enemy. 

“ And  have  we  kilt  ’em  all  ?” 

“ Tam  dem  ! Not  a single  von!”  said  Van  Wiggens, 
who  had  extricated  himself  and  learned  the  result. 

After  the  prolonged  laughter  had  in  some  measure  sub- 
sided, a search  was  made  for  canoes,  and  several  were 
found  tied  in  the  mouth  of  the  creek.  These  they  took 
possession  of,  and,  placing  the  arms  of  the  Indians  in  them, 
left  a guard  to  watch  until  all  the  baggage  could  be  re- 
moved thither  from  the  camp.  The  wind  had  ceased  its 
violence,  and,  as  the  surface  of  the  Ohio  was  as  smooth  as 
a mirror,  they  determined  to  cross  over  early  in  the 
morning. 

They  were  met,  however,  on  their  return  to  the  camp, 
by  Skippie,  who,  in  unusual  excitement,  briefly  informed 
them  that  their  pursuers  were  advancing,  led  by  Girty, 
who  had  joined  them  after  the  ambuscade.  He,  said  they 
were  within  three  or  four  hours  march  of  them,  approach- 
ing cautiously,  and  apparently  resolved  to  make  a desperate 
struggle  before  permitting  the  fugitives  to  escape  with 
their  horses. 


196 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ I’ll  have  all  the  horses  in  Kentucky  in  less  than  an 
hour !”  said  Kenton. 

uAnd  I’ll  see  that  the  people  get  over/’  said  Boone. 
“ We  are  safe  now,  my  young  friend,”  he  continued,  address- 
ing Charles,  “at  least  for  some  days  to  come.” 

“ True,  sir,”  said  Charles,  quickening  his  pace,  and  with 
difficulty  keeping  at  the  side  of  Boone,  whose  giant  strides 
usually  impelled  him  forward  beyond  his  companions; 
“and  I am  extremely  thankful  for  it.” 

Julia  see  med  pleased  to  learn  that  the  enterprise  against 
the  Indian  encampment  had  resulted  without  bloodshed, 
and  the  patriotic  Baptist  gave  thanks  for  the  easy  victory, 
not  doubting  the  hand  of  Providence  had  shaped  the  expe- 
dition and  produced  the  bloodless  end.  The  great  trunk 
over  which  multitudes  had  been  passing  from  time  imme- 
morial, and  upon  which  numbers  had  stood  that  night, 
seemed  to  have  fallen  precisely  at  a juncture  admirably 
adapted  to  facilitate  the  escape  of  the  Indians.  A little 
sooner  or  later,  and  human  lives  would  have  been  sacri- 
ficed. 

Such  were  the  deductions  of  Mr.  Jones  and  the  maiden. 
But  Hugh  McSwine  and  Will  Van  Wiggens  ascribed  the 
escape  of  the  savages  to  the  devil,  who  had  first  assumed 
the  form  of  a wolf  and  then  an  owl. 

No  time,  however,  was  lost  in  such  idle  speculations. 
The  maiden  was  soon  mounted,  and  the  whole  party  pushed 
on  toward  the  river  with  all  the  expedition  in  their  power. 
And  when  Julia  reached  the  scene  of  the  recent  accident 
Kenton’s  voice  was  heard  urging  the  horses  into  the 
stream.  It  was  a frosty  night,  though  calm,  and  the 
animals,  plunging  and  snorting,  evinced  their  reluctance  to 
swimming.  They  wrere  nevertheless  constrained  to  submit, 
and  were  soon  gliding  toward  the  Kentucky  shore. 

Julia  was  placed  in  one  of  the  canoes  and  rowed  over  by 
Charles.  At  every  stroke  of  his  oar  the  poor  girl’s  spirits 
rose,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  in  unison  with  the  glittering 
drops  that  fell  from  the  oars  in  the  moonlight. 

They  spoke  of  their  friends  and  homes  in  New  Jersey, — 
of  Charles’s  Indian  mother  and  sister,  whom  they  loved 
and  pitied,  but  did  not  regret  being  separated  from  them, — 
of  the  beautiful  country  and  pleasant  climate  they  were 
about  to  enter, — and  of  the  means  of  returning  thence  to 


SECOND  SERIES. 


197 


their  Eastern  abode.  Not  one  word  was  uttered  of  their 
deep  and  ineradicable  love.  It  was  too  sacred  for  words — 
too  manifest  to  be  questioned. 

The  horses  were  soon  landed  in  safety.  The  event  was 
announced  by  three  loud  huzzas  from  Kenton ; and,  strik- 
ing a light,  his  locality  was  marked  by  a great  bonfire  on 
the  southern  shore. 

McSwine  and  Van  Wiggens  were  the  last  to  embark; 
"and  after  entering  their  canoe  they  lingered  under  the 
clustering  boughs  of  the  trees  that  hung  over  the  water, — 
the  one  hoping  to  add  another  victim  to  his  catalogue  and 
the  other  watching  for  his  dog.  Nor  did  they  wTait  very  long 
before  the  pursuing  party  came  in  view  upon  their  trail, 
and  Hugh  had  the  satisfaction  of  putting  an  end  to  the 
existence  of  another  human  being.  The  one  he  had  killed 
came  to  the  bank,  after  the  discovery  that  the  fugitives 
were  beyond  his  reach,  and  gazed  in  disappointment  at 
Kenton’s  great  fire,  in  the  broad  glare  of  which  the  smok- 
ing horses  were  plainly  visible.  He  stood  within  six  paces 
of  Hugh’s  muzzle,  and  fell,  without  a groan,  into  the  deep 
water. 

But  the  discharge  of  McSwine’s  rifle  was  followed  by  a 
rush  in  that  direction,  and  the  bloodthirsty  Scot  became 
aware  of  his  danger.  He  could  not  now  leave  the  shelter- 
ing willows  without  being  seen  and  fired  upon ; nor  could 
he  remain  long  concealed  from  their  view  where  he  was. 
So  he  recharged  his  gun,  and  determined  to  have  another 
victim  before  he  fell,  if  such  was  to  be  his  end.  But  the 
Indians,  fearing  an  ambush,  kept  themselves  hidden,  in 
readiness,  however,  to  fire  upon  any  canoes  that  might 
push  out  from  under  the  clustering  willows. 

“ Dere  ne  is  !”  said  Van  Wiggens,  in  a whisper,  hearing 
a dog  yelp.  “Dat’sVatch!  I know  his  cry.  Let  me 
out,  and  I’ll  vistle  for  him.” 

“ What,  mon  !”  said  McSwine,  “lose  your  life  for  a dog? 
I dinna’  ken  how  much  your  life  is  worth,  but  I value  mine 
at  a price  aboon  that.” 

“Dere  he  is!  It’s  Vatch  !”  continued  Van  Wiggens, 
hearing  a dog  whining  distressfully  on  the  bank,  and  after- 
ward seeing  him  indistinctly  through  the  intercepting 
boughs. 

“It  won’t  do,  mon  !”  said  Hugh;  “we  maun  awa’  from 
17* 


198 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


this.  They're  coommg  down  the  creek.  Lift  your  gun 
and  we’ll  fire  thegether.”  They  did  so,  and  under  cover 
of  the  smoke  from  their  rifles,  which  descended  upon  the 
water,  and  during  the  momentary  consternation  produced 
among  the  Indians,  (for  two  more  of  them  had  fallen,  one 
mortally  and  the  other  severely  wounded,)  McSwine  made 
several  vigorous  strokes  of  the  oars,  which  caused  the 
canoe  to  glide  out  rapidly  from  the  shore.  “Noo  fa’  doon 
on  ycr  face,  mon  !”  he  continued,  setting  the  example  to 
his  companion,  and  knowing  that  the  impetus  he  had  given 
the  light  bark  would  soon  carry  it  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
enemy’s  balls.  But,  before  attaining  that  distance,  the 
yelling  savages  sent  a leaden  shower  after  it.  The  water 
was  ripped  up  around  them,  and  the  frail  canoe  was  per- 
forated in  several  places,  but  its  occupants  fortunately 
escaped  without  serious  injury.  Van  Wiggens  was  slightly 
scratched  on  the  most  prominent  portion  of  his  body,  his 
corpulency  preventing  an  entire  concealment  of  it. 

McSwine  and  Van  Wiggens,  upon  landing,  were  much 
applauded.  But,  when  conducted  to  the  great  fire,  upon 
which  an  enormous  quantity  of  wood  and  brush  had  been 
piled,  as  if  an  illumination  had  been  the  design,  poor  Van 
Wiggens’s  spirits  sunk  again  upon  hearing  the  melancholy 
howl  of  his  dog  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Ohio.  He 
ran  to  the  water’s  edge  and  called  to  “Vatch”  to  swim 
over ; but  in  vain,  as  the  dog  either  would  not,  or  was  not 
permitted  to  obey  him. 

Then  the  ears  of  the  whole  party  were  saluted  with  a 
familiar  sound.  This  was  the  deep  intonation  of  Peter 
Shaver’s  ass.  Upon  scenting  the  blood,  he  brayed  forth 
his  sense  of  the  horrid  deed  upon  the  solemn  midnight  air ; 
and  the  melancholy  reverberations  rumbled  from  shore  to 
shore  up  and  down  the  river. 

This  was  succeeded  by  nine  lusty  cheers  from  the  whites, 
while  the  furious  savages  made  the  night  more  hideous 
with  their  demoniac  yells.  The  river  was  some  six  hun- 
dred paces  wide,  ar\d  at  that  distance  Kenton  could  easily 
make  himself  heard  and  understood.  And  so  he  not  only 
boasted  of  the  number  of  horses  he  had  captured,  but 
ostentatiously  paraded  them  in  view  of  their  recent  owners. 
(Nevertheless,  some  of  them  had  been  stolen  from  the 
whites  in  Pennsylvania  by  the  Indians.)  He  not  only 


SECONL  SERIES. 


199 


exhibited  the  horses,  but  descanted  on  their  superior  quali- 
ties, and  pointed  at  the  deep  shoulders,  the  broad  forehead, 
and  clean  limbs,  of  the  steed  which  had  belonged  to 
Ground-Hog,  whom  he  said  he  would  scalp  the  next  time 
he  fell  into  his  hands.  Then  an  impromptu  dance  of  vic- 
tory followed,  in  imitation  of  one  of  the  exultant  cere- 
monies of  the  Indians,  at  which  Charles  smiled  but  faintly, 
for  he  thought  no  good  could  result  from  thus  wantonly 
exasperating  the  enemy. 

And  when  it  was  over,  Simon  Girty,  standing  on  the 
opposite  shore  near  a fire  he  had  kindled,  and  in  the  light 
of  which,  under  the  shadow  of  an  overhanging  tree,  he 
could  be  recognised,  said,  in  a loud  voice,  “War  is  now 
declared ! There  are  not  one  hundred  white  men  in  Ken- 
tucky. We’ll  see  you  again ; you  steal  horses,  and  huzza 
over  it  before  the  faces  of  their  owners !” 

“ Shut  up,  you  renegade  traitor !”  answered  Kenton. 
“ The  blackest  nigger  is  a gentleman  at  the  side  of  Simon 
Girty ! I’ll  change  my  name  from  Simon  to  Sam,  and  call 
my  mangy  old  sheep-killing  cur  ‘ Simon’ — Simon  Girty!” 
“Ah,  Kenton,”  said  Girty,  “such  is  your  gratitude! 
I saved  your  life,  and  thus  you  thank  me.  Very  good! 
I will  be  the  wiser  next  time  !” 

Kenton  was  silent  for  several  minutes.  It  was  known 
that  Girty  had  truly  interposed  and  saved  him  from  being 
tortured  at  the  stake. 

“I  don’t  deny  it,  Girty,”  said  he;  “and  I thank  you 
for  it.  But  I have  twice  spared  your  life  since  then,  when 
you  wrere  within  reach  of  my  rifle ; and  I am  bound  in 
honour  never  to  kill  you,  if  I can  help  it.  But  I owe  you 
nothing.  You  lead  the  savages  in  their  attacks,  and  they 
slaughter  our  women  and  children, — your  own  people,  and 
perhaps  your  own  kin.  I must  defend  them,  and  if  you 
should  fall  by  my  hand  it  will  be  no  fault  of  mine.  Ken- 
tucky is  my  home,  and  it  shall  be  my  grave,*  before  I leave 
it  at  the  bidding  of  you  and  your  baby-murdering  savages.” 
Kenton  said  no  more,  but  sought  the  repose  so  much 
needed  after  the  exciting  scenes  he  had  passed  through. 

Nevertheless,  the  eyelids  of  Charles  and  Julia  were  not 
oppressed  by  slumber.  They  eagerly  broke  open  the  let- 


Kenton,  we  believe,  died  in  Ohio  but  a few  years  since. 


200 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


ters  from  home  brought  by  Skippie.  The  first  one  perused 
was  from  Mr.  Schooley.  It  ran  as  follows : — 44  Esteemed 
Julia: — If  this  should  reach  thy  hands,  thee  will  be  informed 
that  thy  guardian  and  friends  have  been  sorely  grieved  at 
thy  capture  and  at  the  supposed  privations  thou  hast  been 
exposed  to  in  the  wilderness ; and  thou  wilt  learn  that 
it  is  not  credited  by  thy  guardian  and  others  that  the  In- 
dians were  the  authors  of  thy  abduction;  but  we  think  it 
was  the  wrork  of  thy  pretended  friend,  the  rebel ” 

44  That  must  be  me,”  said  Charles. 

44  How  could  he  be  so  much  deceived  ?”  said  Julia,  a flush 
of  deep  indignation  overspreading  her  forehead. 

44  He  is  not  deceived,  Julia/’  replied  Charles. 

46  What?” 

64  He  is  well  convinced  I had  no  agency  in  it.” 

44  He  certainly  would  be,  if  he  knew  all.  But  what  does 
he  say  further?  Yes,”  she  continued,  reading: — 44  Rebel, 
Charles  Cameron.  But  I have  sent  <£100  to  Governor 
Hamilton  for  thy  redemption.  And  if  thee  will  say  so 
to  any  of  the  Seneca  or  MohawTk  chiefs,  they  will  conduct 
thee  to  Canada,  where  thou  wilt  be  ransomed ; and  I have 
requested  them  to  send  thee  by  a safe  guard  to  New  York, 
which  thee  should  be  rejoiced  to  learn  is  now  held  by  the 
army  of  George,  our  liege  lord  and  sovereign ; and  from 
thence  thou  wilt  be  permitted  to  pass  with  a flag  through 
the  rebel  army  to  thy  home,  where  thou  wilt  be  received 
with  affection.  The  £100  w7as  truly  thy  money,  upon 
which  thou  wert  entitled  to  interest,  and  wThich,  with  other 
matters  of  business,  we  will  adjust  when  thou  returnest 
hither.  Mary  sends  her  loving  greeting  to  thee;  and  she 
sends  thee  divers  articles  of  apparel  which  thee  will  pro- 
bably stand  in  need  of.  And  now  I will  repeat  to  thee 
the  great  danger  thou  wilt  incur  by  retaining  thy  partiality 
for  the  rebel  youth.  The  British  army  is  soon  to  possess 
all  of  Newr  Caesarea,  (Newr  Jersey,)  New  York,  and  Phila- 
delphia; and  thee  must  be  aw'are  that  when  the  rebellion  is 
put  down  its  adherents  will  be  subjected  to  forfeitures  and 
other  pains  and  penalties.  So,  if  thee  should  commit  thy- 
self with  the  young  man,  it  will  be  out  of  my  power  to 
serve  thee.  The  whole  of  the  fine  estate  left  by  thy  father 
will  be  lost,  and  thou  wilt  be  a beggar,  mourning  over  the 
execution  of  thy  unworthy  lover.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


201 


“ I shall  read  no  further !"  cried  Julia,  throwing  the 
letter  into  the  fire.  Then,  tearing  open  another,  she  read 
as  follows : — “ Esteemed  Julia,  I pine  for  thy  return.  I 
would  have  followed  thee,  and  remonstrated  with  thy  ab- 
ductors, but  it  was  necessary  to  secure  the  harvest  wrhich  is 
to  supply  us  with  bread.' * 

“Richard  loves  good  eating  as  well  as  his  sweetheart/' 
said  Charles. 

“Oh,  better!"  said  Julia.  “ And  thou  knowest,  be- 
sides," she  continued,  reading,  “it  hath  been  decreed  in 
the  rebel  legislature  that  all  those  who  abandon  their  lands 
shall  not  possess  them  again.  I would  take  no  part  in  the 
awful  conflict.  I am  a loyal  subject ; but  I would  not  fly 
from  my  home.  I am  a non-combatant,  and  cannot 
abandon  our  society  in  conscience  or  for  interest.  I hope 
thee  will  return  and  attend  the  meetings.  If  thou  wilt,  I 
will  agree  to  have  our  nuptials  published 

“ That  will  do !"  said  Julia,  laughing  heartily,  and  like- 
wise consigning  the  epistle  to  the  flames. 

Charles  then  read  a brief  letter  from  his  father,  charg- 
ing him  to  take  care  of  himself  and  to  remain  true  to  the 
cause  of  the  tyrant’s  enemies.  He  said  it  was  probable 
the  armies  and  fleets  of  the  usurper  would  seem  to  prevail 
at  the  commencement  of  the  conflict,  but  that  the  cause  of 
justice  would  triumph  in  the  end.  France  was  secretly 
favouring  the  Revolution,  and  would,  before  its  termination, 
become  an  open  ally  of  America.  He  charged  his  son  to 
suffer  no  uneasiness  on  his  account.  There  were  men 
anxious  to  effect  his  capture,  set  on,  he  believed,  by  Mr. 
Schooley,  for  he  was  in  .correspondence  with  the  British, 
and  had  already  caused  some  beeves  to  be  driven  to  them 
on  Staten  Island : but  they  would  not  succeed.  His  few 
Scots  remaining  with  him  were  vigilant,  and  his  little  for- 
tress impregnable.  Besides,  it  was  believed  by  many, 
since  he  escaped  burning,  that  he  bore  a charmed  life. 
His  health  was  good,  and  his  hours  were  pleasantly  passed 
over  the  pages  of  Shakspeare  and  the  productions  of  other 
sons  of  genius.  Commanding  him  sacredly  to  guard  the 
captive  maiden  from  every  harm,  he  concluded  by  imploring 
his  Maker  to  spare  his  son  for  the  comfort  of  his  declining 
years. 

Charles  then,  his  eyes  suffused  with  tears  and  his  bosom 


202 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


swelling  with  reverence  and  affection  for  his  parent,  would 
have  prevailed  on  Julia  to  seek  the  refreshing  repose  he 
fancied  she  stood  very  much  in  need  of.  But  he  knew  not 
the  extent  of  the  capacity  of  the  sex  for  prolonged  watch- 
ing, and  she  merely  smiled  at  his  solicitude  and  declared 
that  no  slumber  would  visit  her  eyes  if  she  were  to  lie  down ; 
but  she  would  be  silent  while  he  slept,  and  guard  his  peaceful 
repose.  This  he  objected  to,  and  begged  her  to  read  the  re- 
maining letter, — an  epistle  from  Kate  Livingston,  marked 
u Liberty  Hall,  near  Elizabethtown  Point.”  It  began  thus : — 
“ Oh,  my  dear  Julia  ! I have  just  learned,  by  a letter  from 
Mr.  Cameron,  brought  to  my  father  by  the  dumb  but  faithful 
Skippie,  that  you  have  been  seized  by  the  Indians  and  car- 
ried a captive  into  the  wilderness  ! But  the  letter  says  a 
great  Indian-fighter,  named  Hugh  McSwine,  and  a band 
of  Scots,  are  in  pursuit,  and  will  certainly  overtake  your 
captors.  This  is  startling  intelligence,  indeed,  and  distress- 
ing, though  relieved  somewhat  by  the  comfortable  assu- 
rance— which  is  sanctioned  by  the  prophetic  looks  and  de- 
cisive gestures  of  Skippie — that  you  will  soon  be  restored  to 
your  friends.  And  Skippie,  in  two  words,  has  told  me  to 
write  this  letter,  making  me  understand,  I scarcely  know 
how,  that  it  will  certainly  be  delivered  into  your  hands. 
He  sets  out  on  his  return  in  the  morning,  and  I am  resolved 
to  write  all  night !” 

“ Do  you  hear  that,  Charles  ?”  said  Julia. 

“'Yes.  Noble,  generous  Kate  ! Read  on,  Julia,  and  I 
will  replenish  the  fire.  She  employed  a whole  night  in  its 
composition,  and  it  should  be  read  at  such  a time  as  this,  in 
the  profound  depths  of  the  forest.” 

“In  the  first  place,  then,  dearest  Julia,”  continued  the 
letter,  “ let  me  beseech  thee  to  be  cheerful,  and  hope  for  a 
speedy  deliverance,  if  thou  art  not  already  delivered  whilst 
thy  sweet  eyes  are  tracing  these  scarcely-legible  lines, 
blotted  by  my  tears  !” 

“And  she  bids  me  be  cheerful !”  said  Julia. 

“ Glorious  Kate  ! Read  on,”  said  Charles. 

“But,  Julia,” — thus  the  letter  ran, — “I,  too,  need  the 
kind  sympathy  of  friends.  The  British  general  has  offered  a 
large  reward  for  the  capture  of  my  father,  and  it  is  said 
that  assassins  have  been  engaged  to  take  his  life  ! Several 
times  we  have  been  forced  to  fly,  upon  the  landing  of  noc- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


203 


turnal  expeditions.  And  it  is  averred  the  Quakers  do  not 
hesitate  to  sell  them  cattle,  and  deny  having  such  property 
when  applied  to  by  the  Americans,  who  are  without  gold.’* 
“ Once  the  enemy  surrounded  our  house,  calling  upon 
the  governor  to  surrender.  Fortunately,  my  father  was 
away.  Yet  they  searched  the  house,  but  offered  me  no  in- 
dignity ; for  they  were  accompanied  by  a gentlemanly 
young  ensign,  who  pledged  his  word  I should  sustain  no 
injury.  Finding  my  father  had  escaped,  they  resolved 
to  seize  his  papers,  as  he  was  known  to  be  in  cor- 
respondence with  Washington.  And,  truly,  many  letters 
from  W ashington,  and  details  of  future  plans  deeply  affect- 
ing the  cause,  as  well  as  several  secret  resolutions  of  Con- 
gress, were  at  that  moment  in  the  house  ! But  your  wild 
Kate’s  wit  did  not  forsake  her.  The  papers  were  locked  in 
the  gig-box,  then  lying  in  the  hall.  The  box  was  seized, 
and  the  point  of  a bayonet  inserted  in  the  lock,  when  I 
rushed  forward,  and — and  what  do  you  suppose?  Oh,  Julia, 
I told  a deliberate  falsehood,  for  which  I can  be  forgiven. 
I declared  the  box  contained  portions  of  my  private  ward- 
robe, and  appealed  to  the  gallantry  of  the  young  officer  to 
protect  them  from  exposure ; and  if  he  would  do  so  I pro- 
mised to  show  them  where  my  father’s  papers  were  kept. 
He  placed  a guard  over  the  box  and  followed  me  into  the 
library,  wdiere  he  seized  the  old  musty  law-papers,  which  I 
have  often  heard  my  father  declare  no  mortal  could  ever 
unravel.  He  did  not  pause  to  examine  the  pleas,  affida- 
vits, declarations,  (which,  you  have  heard,  are  sometimes 
false  and  worthless,)  but  hastened  away  with  his  treasure  to 
the  barge,  as  if  in  fear  of  being  intercepted.  He  bade  me 
a very  polite  adieu,  however,  and  hoped  we  should  meet 
again.  And  I hope  so,  truly,  after  we  shall  have  gained 
the  victory  ; for  I would  thank  him  for  his  courtesy.  A 
few  hours  after  this  happened,  my  father  returned,  and, 
upon  learning  what  had  taken  place,  he  embraced  your 
lying  Kate  and  uttered  some  of  his  drollest  flatteries 
“ Oh,  Julia,  I have  seen  General  Washington  ! He  dined 
at  the  Hall  one  day ; and,  although  almost  every  one 
thinks  his  chances  desperate,  he  seems  cheerful.  He  is 
certainly  the  most  amiable  and  unoffending  man  I ever  saw. 
How  he  can  be  a general  and  kill  his  enemies  is  beyond 
my  comprehension.  He  is  good-looking  too, — -tall,  straight, 


•204 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


and  liis  cheeks  tinged  with  the  healthful  red.  It  has  been 
maliciously  hinted  that  his  colour  comes  from  the  bottle,  but, 
I dare  say,  without  foundation.  He  has  never  indulged  im- 
moderately, and  no  one  ever  heard  of  his  being  intoxicated. 

44  And  General  Wayne  was  with  him.  He,  you  know,  is 
called  the  6 Little  Mad  Anthony,’  and  swears  like  a trooper, 
sometimes.  But  his  whole  conversation  was  on  religion ; 
and,  next  to  their  pay  and  their  rum,  he  said  the  soldiers 
required  good  chaplains.  And  then  he  told  many  anec- 
dotes of  the  Rev.  David  Jones,  a Baptist  preacher,  now 
among  the  Indians,  whom  he  is  extremely  anxious  to  have 
with  him.  If  you  meet  with  this  Mr.  Jones,  tell  him  his 
presence  is  desired  in  the  camp  of  4 Mad  Anthony.’ 

44  What  shall  I do?  I did  intend  to  fly  to  you  at  the 
Jenny  Jump,  and  live  in  Hope.*  But,  since  you  have  been 
abducted,  it  cannot  be  a place  of  security.  However,  I pre- 
sume the  handsome  Anglo-Indian  chief  is  near  you,  which 
may  serve  to  keep  your  spirits  out  of  the  depths  of  despair. 
1 suppose  I must  remain  where  I am — between  two  armies, 
or,  at  least,  subject  to  the  visits  of  both.  I would  be  happy 
if  you  were  with  me;  and  my  father  charges  me  to  send 
you  a special  invitation  to  make  our  house  your  permanent 
abode  when  you  return  from  your  delightful  tour  in  the 
wilderness.  Keep  a diary,  Julia.” 

After  filling  several  pages  with  the  domestic  affairs  of 
the  family,  interesting  only  to  Julia,  Kate  concluded  ab- 
ruptly, saying: — 44 The  day  is  dawning,  and  we  hear  cannon 
at  the  Point.  The  people  are  running  in  every  direction. 
I see  old  Molly  Ketchup  driving  her  cow  past  the  orchard 
toward  the  woods.  She  limps,  but  does  not  appear  to  lag. 
What  can  the  matter  be  ? I’ve  learned  it ! The  British 
are  landing ! Lord  Cornwallis  is  coming  at  the  head  of 
some  12,000  men.  Pa  has  been  in,  and  informed  me  that 
I must  be  prepared  to  leave  in  fifteen  minutes.  Farewell, 
Julia  ! There  ! A cannon-ball  has  knocked  down  one  of 
the  chimneys.  God  bless  us  ! Kate. 

44  P.  S. — I am  now  at  a cabin  in  the  hills,  and  Skippie 
will  wait  for  me  to  add  a few  lines.  They  did  not  burn 
the  Hall,  as  we  supposed  they  would ; and,  as  we  are  in 
sight  of  it,  we  begin  to  hope  our  eyes  may  not  be  shocked 


* Hope  is  the  name  of  a village  near  the  Jenny  Jump  Mountain. 


205 


SECOND  SERIES. 

bj  smoke  and  flames  issuing  from  the  darling  old  home- 
stead. I am  sure  that  either  General  Howe  or.  Lord  Corn- 
wallis must  be  occupying  it.  Just  to  think  of  such  a thing: — • 
eating  at  our  table  and  sleeping  in  our  beds,  while  we  are 
fugitives,  depending  on  the  charity  of  Molly  Ketchup’s 
cow ! But  we  are  cheerful ; and  pa  says  the  American 
army — rabble  I call  it,  just  now — is  marching  hitherward, 

and  will  interpose  between  us  and  the  enemy Did 

you  know  that  they  have  bestowed  on  father  the  nickname 
of  Flintface?  He  is  called  by  that  title  all  over  the  Colony, 
because,  in  his  last  message  to  the  Legislature,  he  said, 

4 We  must  set  our  faces  like  flint  against  dissoluteness  and 
corruption/  ....  Another  commotion  ! A foraging-party 
of  the  enemy!  Oh,  what  screams  at  the  hut  in  the  valley! 
It  is  poor  Molly  Ketchup.  They  are  driving  away  her 
cow ! Adieu.  Kate.” 

When  Julia  ceased  reading,  the  dawn  was  apparent  in 
the  east.  Charles  heaped  fresh  wood  on  the  fire,  and  pre- 
vailed on  her  to  sleep  until  the  breakfast  should  be  pre- 
pared. He  knew  that  the  meat  for  her  repast  was  then 
living  and  would  have  to  be  found  and  killed ; so  she 
would,  in  all  probability,  have  ample  time  for  refreshing 
slumber.  He  likewise  sought  repose  himself  at  the  side  of 
the  deeply-breathing  Mr.  Jones,  who  sometimes  uttered 
prayers  in  his  sleep,  but  more  frequently  sang  snatches  of 
the  Psalms  of  David. 

It  was  a calm,  frosty  morning,  rosy  with  the  deep  red 
rays  of  an  autumnal  sun  in  what  is  termed  the  Indian 
summer.  Boone  and  Kenton  rose  perfectly  refreshed. 

46 1 don’t  know  how  you  feel,  Mr.  Boone,”  said  Kenton, 
stretching  back  his  broad  shoulders,  44  but  I am  comfortable. 

I can  breathe  freely  on  the  glorious  soil  of  Kentucky ; and 
the  climate  is  a thousand  times  better  than  it  is  over  the 
river  yonder.” 

44  The  soil  and  climate  are  well  enough,  Simon,”  said 
Boone,  sighing,  44  and  there’s  plenty  of  game.  But  it 
makes  me  unhappy  to  see  so  many  people  coming  to  cut 
the  trees  and  shoot  the  buffalo  and^  deer.  If  you  and  I 
could  only  live  here  alone,  I wouldn’t  ask  a better  paradise. 
No  matter ! When  neighbours  get  too  thick,  Daniel  Boone 
can  go  farther  west.” 

44 1 like  having  enough  neighbours  to  keep  back  the  In- 
18 


206 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


dians  and  to  sell  horses  to,”  said  Kenton.  They  then 
disappeared  in  the  cane-brake  in  quest  of  game  for  break- 
fast, and,  before  many  minutes  had  elapsed,  the  sharp  re- 
ports of  their  rifles  were  heard. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

± “BAVER” — PADDY  SHOT — A RATTLESNAKE — THE  BLUE 

LICKS — SHOOTING  BUFFALO — BOONE’S  STATION — THE  IN- 
DIAN KING’S  OFFER  DECLINED. 

‘It’s  a baver !”  said  Paddy,  in  reply  to  Van  Wiggens, 
who,  upon  awaking  from  his  troubled  slumber,  and  hearing 
the  report  of  a gun  on  the  river-bank,  had  walked  in  that 
direction.  Paddy,  as  he  answered,  was  endeavouring  to 
take  a steady  aim  at  the  “ varmint,”  which,  most  singularly 
for  a beaver,  did  not  sink  beneath  the  surface,  but  persisted 
in  its  efforts  to  ascend  the  low  embankment. 

“Let  me  see  !”  said  Van  Wiggens,  cocking  his  gun  and 
peeping  over.  “ Tam  your  Irish  eyes  !”  he  cried,  a moment 
after;  “if  you  shoot  him  I’ll  kill  you!  He’s  a dousand 
dimes  better  as  you!” 

“ What ! Isn’t  it  a baver?”  asked  Paddy,  upon  hearing 
a low  whine. 

“Baver,  de  teiffel ! It’s  my  Vatch!”  cried  Yan  Wig- 
gens, dropping  his  rifle  and  sliding  down  into  the  water, 
unmindful  of  the  chilling  bath,  and  hugging  the  poor  shiver- 
ing animal  in  his  arms.  “Poor  Yatch!”  he  exclaimed, 
in  broken  tones  of  pity  and  affection ; “ you’ve  been  swim- 
ming all  night  to  reach  your  master,  who  has  nobody  else 
to  love  since  Mrs.  Wan  Yiggens  sold  herself  to  der  teiffel. 
And  de  savages  nearly  starved  you,  Yatch  ! See  how  little 
your  pelly  is ! And  de  tammed  fool  Irishman,”  he  con- 
tinued, in  tears,  “ has  been  shooting  at  you  for  a baver , as 
he  calls  it.  Come,  Yatch  ! you  shall  have  blenty  of  my 
breakfast  before  te  hot  fire.”  Still  holding  the  grateful 
dog  in  his  arms,  Van  Wiggens  ascended  the  embankment 
and  strode  toward  the  fire,  while  Paddy  sat  down  on  a log 
and  gazed  after  him. 


ESCOND  SERIES. 


207 


Paddy  continued  to  sit  there,  enjoying  the  fumes  of  the 
broiling  venison,  and  gradually  yielding  to  the  exhilarating 
influences  of  such  a lovely  morning  in  so  genial  a climate, 
when,  lifting  his  head,  he  saw  the  smoke  of  a gun  just  dis- 
charged on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river 

“ What  are  the  blackguards  afther  now?”  said  he,  solilo- 
quizing, as  he  beheld  a dozen  savages  on  the  bank  gazing 
at  him.  A moment  after,  and  simultaneously  with  the  re- 
port, a leaden  ball  struck  the  log  on  which  he  sat  and  just 
between  his  knees.  He  was  not  at  first  aware  of  the  nature 
of  the  messenger,  although  he  felt  a stinging  sensation 
from  the  particles  of  lead  radiating  on  the  hard  surface  of 
the  wood.  He  gazed  a moment  at  the  blue  spot  between 
his  legs,  and,  becoming  conscious  of  having  been  made  the 
target  of  the  marksman  across  the  river,  fell  down  sud- 
denly, and  screamed  “Murther!”  so  loudly  and  repeatedly 
that  many  of  the  men  came  running  in  that  direction. 

The  Indians  witnessing  this  scene  yelled  with  delight, 
not  doubting  that  one  of  their  foes  had  fallen. 

“ Take  care  !”  said  Boone,  standing  over  Paddy  with  an 
upraised  club.  “ If  you  stir  hand  or  foot,  you’ll  be  bitten !” 
And  the  next  moment  the  club  descended,  and  crushed  an 
enormous  rattlesnake  within  a few  inches  of  Paddy’s  head. 

“ Murther  ! murther  ! murther  !”  cried  Paddy,  rolling 
away  with  great  power  and  velocity. 

“ Stand  up,  mon ! Ye’re  not  dead  yet,  and  ye  were 
not  born  to  be  shot,  droowned,  or  poisoned,”  said  Hugh 
McSwine. 

“ Och,  Mr.  Bone,”  cried  Paddy,  “I  thought  these  ugly 
bastes  went  into  their  howls  when  the  frosts  came  !” 

“ So  they  do,”  said  Boone.  “ This  fellow  was  going  to 
the  cliff  yonder,  but  stopped  to  sun  himself  on  the  warm 
side  of  the  log.” 

“And  sure  I was  doing  that  same  thing  meself ! But  it 
wasn’t  the  baste  that  made  me  cry  out*-” 

“ Why  should  you  holler  murder  for  a snake  ?”  said 
Kenton.  “Why  not  kill  ’em  and  be  done  with  it?” 

“ Och,  it  was  the  bullet !” 

“Bullet?”  repeated  several. 

“Yes,  I’m  shat!  The  baste  made  me  forgit  it ! Yes, 
I’m  shat ! See  here !”  and,  unwrapping  his  leggins,  Paddy 
exhibited  several  slight  punctures  and  bruises.  He  then 


208 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


pointed  to  the  blue  marks  on  the  log,  and  described  the 
attitude  in  which  he  had  been  sitting. 

The  whole  party,  who  had  heard  the  rifle,  laughed 
heartily  at  Paddy’s  expense. 

“That  was  close  grazing,”  said  Kenton,  “ and  it  would 
have  given  a black  eye.  He  must  have  aimed  at  the  tops 
of  the  trees.” 

This  incident  over,  the  party,  after  a hearty  repast,  set 
out  in  the  direction  of  Boone’s  station.  They  followed  a 
broad  buffalo-trail  which  led  to  the  mineral  springs  after- 
ward known  as  the  Blue  Licks. 

The  climate  seemed  to  have  a most  extraordinary  effect 
upon  the  spirits  of  all.  Kenton  was  continually  leaping 
up,  hallooing,  and  letting  off  some  hunter’s  joke  that  pro- 
duced laughter.  Boone’s  eyes  had  a bright,  merry  look. 
Several  of  the  prisoners  who  had  been  captured  in  Ken- 
tucky, and  among  them  a hale,  hearty  fellow  named  Chap- 
man, had  a propensity  for  crowing. 

“Foo!  Vat’s  dat  schmells  so?”  exclaimed  Van  Wig- 
gens,  who  rode  a short  distance  in  advance. 

“ The  mineral  springs,”  said  Charles.  “ Our  horses  have 
been  for  some  time  pricking  forward  their  ears  and  snuffing 
the  breeze.  And  will  we  not  find  buffalo  there?”  he  con- 
tinued, addressing  Boone. 

“ Certainly.  Don’t  you  see  the  fresh  sign  ? And  we 
must  kill  a supply  for  the  winter.” 

A profound  silence  ensued  as  they  proceeded,  and  all 
gazed  in  admiration  at  the  most  lovely  country  they  had 
ever  beheld.  The  climate  was  truly  delightful,  the  soil 
fertile,  and  the  surface  pleasantly  diversified  with  hill  and 
valley,  woodland  and  prairie.  It  teemed  with  game  of 
every  description;  and  hardly  a minute  passed  that  some 
one  of  the  party  did  not  behold  buffalo,  elk,  bear,  or 
deer. 

Kenton  led  a number  of  men  in  advance  of  the  rest  to 
the  Licks,  and  soon  their  guns  were  heard  dealing  death 
among  the  buffalo.  Those  huge  animals  had  collected  that 
autumn  in  vast  multitudes.  They  had  gone  thither  from 
all  the  adjacent  countries  for  hundreds  of  miles  round, 
meeting  as  if  by  concert  at  a common  rendezvous ; and  it 
was  feared  they  would  soon  be  followed  by  the  Indians, 
their  natural  proprietors.  Therefore,  Boone  advised  a 


SECOND  SERIES. 


209 


speedy  departure  from  the  vicinity.  A few  hours  would 
suffice  for  the  slaughter  of  buffalo. 

Boone  remained  with  Charles  and  Julia,  having  no  dis- 
position to  partake  of  the  sport.  His  thoughts  dwelt  upon 
his  family,  who  had  been  left  at  the  settlement  on  the  Ken- 
tucky River,  and  from  whom  he  had  been  separated  many 
months.  He  would  soon  see  them  if  they  still  remained  at 
the  station.  But  who  could  tell,  in  a time  of  such  vicissi- 
tudes, what  might  have  happened  ? 

“ Mr.  Bone  ! Mr.  Bone  !”  cried  Paddy,  who,  with  the 
rest,  drew  rein  and  listened  to  a strange  rumbling  sound 
which  appeared  to  shake  the  very  earth,  “ what  is  that  ? 
Is  it  a harry  cane  ?” 

“ Follow  me  !”  cried  Boone,  with  an  excited  countenance. 
And  they  had  no  sooner  paused  under  the  boughs  of  a 
dense  grove  of  giant  sugar-maples,  several  hundred  paces 
west  of  the  great  trail,  than  an  immense  drove  of  the  wild 
cattle  came  rushing  past.  It  was  a torrent  which  would 
have  swept  through  an  opposing  army. 

“ Merciful  heaven!”  cried  Julia,  as  the  astounding  ap- 
parition swept  by. 

“ There  is  no  danger  here,”  said  Charles,  breathing 
freely.  “Mr.  Boone  has  saved  us.” 

“And  ye’re  quite  sure  we’re  saved?”  asked  Paddy. 
“Then,  be  the  powers,  I’ll  have  a crack  at  ’em!”  And, 
after  a hasty  aim,  he  fired  at  the  moving  mass  of  animals, 
the  nearest  of  them  being  only  some  fifty  paces  distant. 
“ Howly  Vargin  !”  he  cried,  “I’ve  kelt  a dazen  at  layst. 
Saa  how  they  tumble  over!”  He  had,  indeed,  by  a lucky 
shot,  brought  one  of  them  down,  and  many  of  the  rest  fell 
over  him.  Several,  untouched  by  Paddy’s  lead,  were 
trampled  under-foot  and  never  rose  again.  And  when  the 
thundering  mass  had  vanished,  it  was  with  great  exultation 
that  Paddy  claimed  them  all  as  the  extraordinary  product 
of  his  fire. 

Resuming  the  broad  buffalo-trail,  the  travellers  ap- 
proached the  Licks.  In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
springs  the  earth  seemed  to  have  been  scooped  out  or  trod- 
den down  many  feet  in  depth,  for  hundreds  of  paces  in 
circumference ; and  this  had-  been  done  by  the  animals 
tesorting  thither  for  ages. 

The  hunters  had  already  collected  a vast  number  of 

18* 


2(0 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


tongues,  and  these,  with  the  best  of  the  skins,  made  quite 
as  heavy  a burden  as  the  horses  could  bear. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
after  crossing  the  Ohio,  the  party  paused  on  the  summit 
of  a high  cliff  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Kentucky  River. 
With  a palpitating  heart,  Boone  gazed  in  silence  at  the 
narrow  tract  of  bottom-land  on  the  opposite  shore.  Then, 
seeing  the  smoke  curling  up  from  the  cabins,  his  face  beam- 
ing with  delight,  and  every  nerve  quivering  with  plea- 
surable excitement,  he  uttered  a loud,  clear  halloo  upon  the 
still  air,  which  was  borne  over  the  surface  of  tha  bright 
water.  After  a brief  pause  it  was  answered  from  the  other 
side  by  a voice  Boone  seemed  to  recognise ; and  this  wTas 
succeeded  by  a dozen  others.  Though  long  given  up  as 
dead,  Boone's  halloo  was  known.  Whoops  and  cheers 
were  soon  uttered  in  quick  succession,  and  the  people  were 
seen  running  about  in  great  commotion. 

“ Thank  heaven,  1 see  women  and  children !”  said 
Julia. 

“But  not  mine!  not  mine!"  said  Boone,  straining  his 
eyes,  with  his  hands  on  his  forehead.  “ I see  my  brother, 
two  sons,  but  no  wife,  no  daughter  ! Gone  ! They  would 
have  known  my  voice  better  than  the  rest.  Not  there ! 
no,  they  are  not  there !” 

“ You  should  not  suppose  they  have  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy,”  said  Julia,  witnessing  his  emotion  with  con- 
cern, “ since  the  rest  seem  to  have  escaped.” 

“No,”  said  he,  recovering  his  self-possession,  “I  have 
no  fear  of  that.  I know  what  has  happened.  They  sup- 
posed me  dead,  and  returned  to  North  Carolina.  No 
matter.  They  have  not  taken  the  fort  and  the  country 
with  them,  and  I can  bring  them  back.” 

Kenton,  having  assembled  the  horses  and  men  in  full 
view’  of  the  little  settlement,  gave  a signal,  and  the  air  was 
rent  with  cheers.  The  people  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river  seemed  almost  wild  with  joy,  and  sent  over  all  the 
canoes  they  could  command ; and  our  party,  following  the 
winding  path  down  to  the  water’s  edge,  were  met  and  rap- 
turously greeted  by  the  first  settlers  of  Kentucky. 
And  it  may  be  said  that  the  example  of  extending  a hearty 
welcome  to  a returning  friend  or  a wandering  stranger, 
practised  by  those  adventurous  pioneers,  has  never  since 


SECOND  SERIES. 


211 


been  forgotten  by  their  noble  and  generous  descend- 
ants. 

Julia  and  Charles,  and  all  the  weary  fugitives,  were  now 
in  a place  of  comparative  security.  Mr.  Jones  preached 
that  night  to  a congregation  of  not  less  than  sixty  men, 
women,  and  children. 

Among  the  women  in  the  fort,  or  settlement, — for  it 
hardly  deserved  the  name  of  the  former, — were  Mrs. 
McGary,  Mrs.  Logan,  Mrs.  Todd,  Mrs.  Miller,  Mrs.  Hogan, 
Mrs.  Harrod,  Mrs.  Bryant,  Mrs.  Trigg,  Mrs.  Bulger,  Mrs. 
Harland,  Mrs.  Harrison,  Mrs.  Calloway,  and  others,  from 
whom  have  descended  some  of  the  best  specimens  of  hu- 
manity, whether  in  the  field  or  in  the  forum,  that  have 
illustrated  our  history.  Their  husbands  were  absent  build- 
ing small  forts  or  block-houses — called  stations — in  other 
portions  of  the  country. 

Nor  was  Boone  quite  correct  in  his  conjecture.  His 
wife,  it  was  true,  with  some  of  the  younger  children,  had 
returned  to  North  Carolina.  His  favourite  daughter  re- 
mained, and  had  been  prevented  from  coming  forth  on 
hearing  his  voice  by  an  attack  of  the  ague, — a disease  which 
had  periodically  assailed  her  before  leaving  Carolina.  But 
she  was  quite  well  the  next  day,  and  succeeded  in  cheering 
the  heart  of  her  affectionate  father. 

Skippie’s  bundle  was  now  opened,  and  Julia  over- 
whelmed him  with  thanks  for  the  timely  addition  to  her 
wardrobe. 

The  men  made  but  little  change  in  their  dress,  as  all  the 
hardy  pioneers  were  habited  in  buckskin  hunting-shirts ; 
and,  with  the  exception  of  their  faces,  which  they  washed 
occasionally,  their  resemblance  to  the  Indians  was  not  very 
remote.  They  wore  moccasins,  leggins,  and,  in  cold  wea- 
ther, blankets,  and  each  had  his  rifle,  tomahawk,  and  knife. 
With  the  latter  they  carved  their  meat  or  scalped  an 
enemy  as  occasion  required. 

After  sojourning  in  the  fort  some  days  in  perfect  repose, 
those  who  had  no  intention  of  becoming  citizens  of  the 
country  began  to  make  preparations  for  returning  to  their 
distant  homes.  But  these  preliminaries  were  cut  short  by 
the  arrival  of  a prisoner  who  had  escaped  from  the  Indians* 
and  who  stated  that  the  enemy  were  organizing  an  army 
tor  the  purpose  of  exterminating  the  white  intruders  in 


212 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES 


Kentucky,  and  that  their  arrival  might  be  looked  for  in  a 
few  days. 

This,  according  to  Paddy’s  idea,  which  he  strove  in  vain 
to  impress  upon  others,  was  a conclusive  reason  why  they 
should  hasten  to  depart. 

The  fort  was  immediately  repaired.  It  consisted  merely 
of  a quadrangular  structure  of  some  forty  connecting  log- 
cabins,  the  doors  opening  on  the  square  within.  The  hardy 
pioneers  relv°d  more  upon  their  own  bravery  and  skill  with 
the  rifle  for  security  than  upon  the  usual  artificial  or  scien- 
tific defences  of  civilized  warfare. 

At  night,  when  they  supposed  the  Indians  were  lurking 
in  the  vicinity,  the  cattle  were  driven  within  the  enclosure, 
the  gates  fastened,  and  one  or  two  sentinels  placed  on  duty. 
And  such  was  the  reliance  on  the  prowess  of  their  defend- 
ers that  some  of  the  aged  females,  on  one  or  two  occasions, 
declined  rising  from  their  couches  during  a night  attack, 
wherein  the  enemy  quadrupled  the  little  garrison  in  nume- 
rical force. 

On  the  present  occasion,  when  the  history  of  Charles 
and  Julia  became  known,  and  the  sanguinary  adventures 
of  Hugh  McSwine  were  related  and  the  horse-stealing 
feats  of  Simon  Kenton  duly  confessed,  a belief  prevailed 
that  a more  determined  and  desperate  attempt  to  destroy 
the  settlements  would  be  made  than  any  hitherto  expe- 
rienced ; and  preparations  were  made  accordingly.  Every 
man  had  a duty  to  perform,  and  Paddy  was  made  to  under- 
stand that  any  proposition  to  diminish  the  strength  of  the 
garrison  at  such  a moment  would  be  a pusillanimity  deserv- 
ing of  summary  punishment. 

And  during  this  period  of  apprehension  and  suspense 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones  reaped  his  harvest  of  souls.  He 
preached  and  prayed  with  great  effect.  No  less  than  five 
women  and  three  men  were  plunged  by  him  beneath  the 
pellucid  waters  of  the  Kentucky  River. 

But  still  the  savages  delayed  the  assault,  and,  as  the 
frosts  were  crisping  the  leaves,  it  was  hoped  the  invasion 
would  be  postponed  until  the  ensuing  year,  when  the  influx 
of  emigrants  would  furnish  men  enough  to  meet  the  enemy 
in  the  field.  Under  this  supposition  some  of  the  people 
grew  incautious ; and  among  them  were  Boone’s  daughter 
Mary,  Miss  Calloway,  and  Julia,  who,  becoming  intimate 


SECOND  SERIES. 


213 


associates  as  soon  as  they  met,  were  afterward  inseparable 
companions.  They  explored  every  hill  and  valley  in  the 
neighbourhood.  They  called  the  saucy  squirrels  that  gazed 
at  them  from  the  low  boughs  their  bonnies,  and  clapped 
their  hands  as  the  startled  buck  sprang  up  before  them  in 
the  tangled  brake.  They  gathered  the  wild  plum,  the  haw, 
the  persimmon,  and  the  papaw.  And  at  dusky  eve,  when 
the  men  ceased  to  garner  the  corn,  and,  guided  by  the  sound 
of  their  bells,  sought  the  cows  and  horses  among  the  cane 
and  drove  them  within  the  enclosure  of  the  fort,  the  three 
girls  loved  to  linger,  striving,  but  in  vain,  to  find  the 
mysterious  whippoorwill  that  filled  the  valley  with  its 
wailing. 

And  at  night,  when  the  weary  labourer,  his  hunger  satis- 
fied, was  steeped  in  profound  slumber,  the  old  women,  not 
requiring  recuperative  repose,  usually  sat  till  a late  hour 
before  the  broad  hearths,  the  glowing  embers  of  which 
illuminated  the  recesses  of  the  quiet  cabins.  Then  it  was 
that  Julia  listened  to  the  many  thrilling  narratives  of  “ hair- 
breadth escapes”  from  the  savages  and  fearful  encounters 
with  wild  beasts  and  enormous  serpents.  Such  was  the 
staple  material  of  the  fireside  conversation  in  the  new  set- 
tlements. And,  although  many  a truthful  tale  thus  nar- 
rated harrowed  the  feelings  of  the  auditor,  yet  there  was  a 
fascination  in  the  recital,  a romance  in  the  simple  loves 
and  distresses,  which  caused  the  most  timid  maiden  still  to 
linger  and  listen.  And  their  dreams  reproduced  the  most 
terrible  scenes,  to  be  followed,  too  often,  alas,  by  the  reality 
of  suffering  and  death  ! 

One  evening,  just  at  the  first  glimmer  of  twilight,  when 
the  owl  came  flapping  down  from  the  hills  and  the  whip- 
poorwill was  uttering  its  first  lamentation,  the  three  girls 
were  still  lingering  on  the  margin  of  the  river. 

“ Come,  Mary,”  said  Sue  Calloway,  “ don’t  you  hear  the 
bells  ? They  are  driving  in  the  cows  and  horses,  and  will 
soon  be  looking  for  us.” 

“ Don’t  fear  it,  Sue,”  said  the  daughter  of  Boone  ; athey 
will  not  miss  us — I mean  you  and  I.  Julia,  though,  is 
always  looked  for  and  watched  over  by  the  handsome  bird 
of  prey.” 

“Bird  of  prey?”  continued  Sue,  seeing  Julia  plunged 
in  one  of  her  spells  of  musing  abstraction. 


214 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ Yes ; don’t  yon  remember  father  says  they  called  him 
White  Eagle  ?” 

“ Oh,  yes ! I forgot.  And  we  poor  neglected  crea- 
tures may  wail  with  the  whippoorwill,”  she  added,  with  a 
sigh. 

“ Simon  Kenton,”  whispered  Mary,  while  the  other 
blushed  and  turned  aside  her  face,  “ says  he  loves  the 
song  of  the  dusky  bird,  and  knows  where  it  perches  when 
singing.” 

“ Eagle!”  said  Julia,  roused  suddenly  from  her  reverie. 
“ Did  you  not  say  something  about  the  eagle  ?” 

“Yes, — a white  eagle,”  replied  Mary. 

“Y7ou  mean  Charles.  You  need  not  smile.  You  cannot 
annoy  me  by  alluding  to  him.” 

“We  would  not  annoy  you  if  we  could,”  said  Mary. 
“We  merely  desired  to  rouse  you.  YTou  seemed  uncon- 
scious of  the  lateness  of  the  hour.” 

“But  see!”  exclaimed  Julia;  “the  hills  opposite  are 
tinged  with  the  silver  light  of  the  moon  before  we  can 
behold  the  disk  of  the  orb.  You  know  we  cannot  see  it 
rise  from  the  fort.  Go  in,  if  you  will  not  stay  with  me, 
and  I will  follow  presently.” 

The  girls  did  as  she  requested,  and  left  her  standing  under 
a hawthorn-tree.  They  had  become  accustomed  to  Julia’s 
little  eccentricities,  which  they  attributed  solely  to  the 
delightful  influence  of  love. 

Julia  awaited  the  rising  of  the  moon,  which  seemed  to 
beam  on  her  pale  forehead  as  a light  from  her  distant 
home ; and  she  smiled  as  she  gazed  at  the  joyful  messenger 
from  the  East.  Then  turning  into  the  little  path  leading 
through  the  clustering  vines  and  bushes  toward  the  gate  of 
the  fort,  she  was  startled  by  the  rustling  of  dry  leaves  in 
her  immediate  vicinity,  and  paused  to  listen.  To  her  dis- 
may and  horror,  a tall  Indian,  of  herculean  frame,  arose 
and  stood  before  her.  She  did  not  cry  out,  but  her  heart 
throbbed  audibly. 

“Fear  not.  I am  a friend,”  said  the  Indian,  in  very 
good  English. 

“ Who  are  you?  What  do  you  want?”  asked  the  trem- 
bling girl,  quickly,  and  glancing  hastily  round,  as  if  in  quest 
of  some  avenue  of  escape.  But  there  was  none. 

“ I am  one  who  will  do  you  no  ill.  I want  a few  brief 


SECOND  SERIES. 


215 


won  Is  with  you,  and  then  you  may  go  to  your  friends. 
You  have  heard  the  White  Eagle  say  his  brother  Thayen- 
danegea  was  incapable  of  lying.  I am  Thayendanegea.” 
Julia  breathed  more  freely.  She  was  aware  that  the 
savages  often  professed  friendship  when  they  meant  harm  ; 
but  it  was  not  so  with  the  great  sachem  of  the  Six  Nations. 
“ Speak  on  ; I am  listening, ” said  she. 

“First,”  said  the  chief,  making  a stride  towrard  the 
shrinking  girl,  and  gently  taking  her  unresisting  hand, 
“ promise  that  you  will  not  make  known  my  presence  in 
this  vicinity.  On  that  condition  you  have  my  word  that 
you  shall  return  to  your  friends  unharmed  by  me — if  you 
desire  it.” 

“ If  I desire  it  ? But  I promise.  Now’  be  quick !”  said  she. 
“Yes,  if  you  desire  it.  I am  now  a king.  If  you  will 
go  with  me, — voluntarily,  I mean, — you  shall  be  my  bride, 
my  queen,  and  I will  love  you  during  the  whole  of  my  life. 
My  sister  loves  the  young  companion  of  her  infancy,  and 
mourns  over  his  desertion.  Let  him  marry  her.  We  will 
seek  a retreat  where  the  white  man  cannot  come,  and 
be  happy.  The  tomahawk  shall  be  buried.  We  will  live 
in  peace.  Thousands  of  innocent  lives  will  be  spared.  The 

Great  Spirit  you  worship  will  smile  on  you ” 

“Impossible!”  said  Julia,  in  tears. 

“It  is  the  last  offer!”  continued  Brandt.  “Another 
moon,  and  it  will  be  too  late.  The  tribes  of  every  nation 
are  rousing,  and,  when  the  hatchet  is  sharpened  and  the 
wTar-paths  are  trodden,  neither  orators  nor  sachems  will  be 
able  to  withhold  the  sinewy  arms  of  the  wrarriors.  The 
Mohawks  love  their  white  brother,  and  their  king  loves  the 
white  maiden.  Speak  ! But  think  of  the  benefits  you  may 
confer  or  the  sufferings  entail  on  your  fellow-creatures.” 
“Oh,  Brandt,  it  is  impossible !” 

“ Go,  then  !” 

“Oh,  tell  me,”  she  said,  pausing  in  her  flight,  “where 
your  sister  is,  and  if  she  reproaches  us.” 

“ She  complains  not  — reproaches  not  — but  loves  on. 
She  would  die,  if  she  were  not  a Christian  and  did  not 
fear  to  offend  her  God.” 

“Bless  her!  Oh,  Thayendanegea,  tell  her  I love  ner 
dearly  ! But  say  her  sister  fears  her,  too  — or  else  she 
would  have  her  always  near ” 


216 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


44  Brandt  would  slay  her  first ! Say  no  more  ! Farewell. 
Breathe  to  no  one  what  has  passed  this  night.  And  yet, 
Julia, ” he  continued,  in  faltering  and  softened  tones, 
44  you  may  reveal  it  to  Charles,  if  he  will  promise  not  to 
seek  me  during  the  next  twelve  hours,  in  the  event  of  re- 
jecting my  olFer.,, 

And  before  the  girl  could  reply  the  chief  had  vanished ; 
&nd,  when  she  turned  her  face  again  in  the  direction  of  the 
fort,  she  saw  Mary  and  Sue  approaching  with  hurried 
steps. 

44  The  moon  is  half  an  hour  high,”  said  Mary,  44  and  yet 
you  tarry.” 

44  I’ve  heard  of  people  being  moonstruck,”  said  Sue. 
And  then,  seeing  Julia  pale  and  distressed,  she  took  her 
hand  tenderly  and  asked  her  forgiveness. 

46  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,  Sue,”  said  Julia,  returning 
the  caress.  44  You  did  not  mean  to  offend  me.  That  is 
sufficient.” 

44  But  wdiy  are  you  so  cold  and  pale  ?”  asked  Mary. 

44  Am  I?”  was  all  the  response  Julia  vouchsafed. 

44  Yes,  truly.  And  I am  sure  you  have  seen  something 
which  has  terrified  you.” 

44  Seen  something  ?” 

44  A ghost,  perhaps,”  said  Sue.  44  It  was  not  an  Indian, 
or  she  wTould  not  have  remained  here  alone ; nor  a lover, 
for  he  is  in  the  fort  seeking  her.” 

A sad  smile  was  all  this  sally  produced.  And  then  they 
entered  the  gate. 

44  You  have  been  weeping,”  said  Charles,  late  in  the 
evening,  observing  Julia’s  abstraction  while  the  rest  were 
singing  merry  songs. 

44  And  for  what,  pray?”  replied  she,  with  a faint  smile. 

44 1 know  not,  unless  it  be  to  return.  But  why  should 
you  seek  to  hide  your  grief?  That  is  the  mystery.” 

44  It  is  a mystery  and  a secret,”  said  the  girl,  her  face 
assuming  a deathlike  paleness,  44  which  I cannot  reveal 
antil  you  have  first  promised  not  to  betray  it  to  others.” 

44 1 cannot  conceive  the  necessity.  But  I promise.” 

Then  she  related  in  a low  tone  what  she  had  seen  and 
listened  to.  Charles  became  very  pale,  and  long  remained 
silent. 

44  And  you  told  him  it  was  impossible  ?” 


217 


J 

SECOND  SERIES, 

11  Can  you  doubt  it  ?”  1 

“ Certainly  not,  when  you  say  so.” 

“ t have  said  so.  What  else  could  I tell  him?  Why 
should  he  presume  to  mak^such  an  offer  ?” 

“ True.  And  he  is  ambitious.  He  could  never  love 
thee  as  I do.  Pardon  me.  My  mind  reverted  to  the  in- 
stances in  ancient  history  of  persons  sacrificing  themselves 
for  their  country — suffering  death  to  save  the  lives  of 
others.  And  Brandt  has  heard  of  them,  and  would  be 
famous.  But  he  is  incapable  of  loving,  and  could  make  no 
one  happy.” 

“ Would  the  result  be  as  he  promised?  Would  peace 
ensue  ?” 

“ No  ! He  is  mistaken.  He  could  not  restrain  them.  He 
might  detach  some  of  the  warriors  from  this  section  by 
leading  them  against  others.  But  I doubt  even  that.  The 
Shawnees  of  Chillicothe  and  the  Wyandots  on  the  Miami 
have  sworn  to  drive  the  white  people  out  of  Kentucky.  It 
would  be  a bootless  sacrifice.  You  would  be  miserable,  and 
I could  never  love  the  Brown  Thrush  but  as  a poor,  simple, 
wild-wood  sister.” 

“Nay,  do  not  fear  I shall  become  an  advocate  of  the 
arrangement,”  said  she.  “ The  experience  of  poor  Van 
Wiggens  would  alone  deter  me.  But  here  is  Skippie,  who 
has  been  invisible  for  several  days.” 

“ Skippie,”  said  Charles,  gazing  at  the  imperturbable 
features  of  the  mysterious  messenger,  “ how  did  you  get 
in?” 

“ Over !”  said  he,  his  gestures  indicating  that  he  had 
entered  over  the  roof  without  being  seen  by  the  sentinels. 

“ Well  ?” 

“ Going,”  said  he,  pointing  eastward. 

“ When  ?” 

“ Morning.” 

“He  will  take  any  letters  we  may  write,  Julia,”  said 
Charles. 

Skippie  nodded  assent. 

“ Then,  like  Kate,  I will  write  all  night,”  said  Julia 
“ Oh,  I will  freeze  her  blood  with  an  account  of  the  interview 
I have  just  had  with  the  terrible  Brandt !” 

“You  may  injure  your  health,  or  at  least  your  eyes, 
Julia,  by  writing  so  much.  Permit  me  to  work  for  you. 

19 


218 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


I will  be  your  secretary.  My  Utters  can  be  despatched  in 
an  hour.” 

“ Indeed ! I will  do  my  own  writing.  What ! permit  you 
to  see  my  letters  ? You  are  vwy,  very  kind,  sir  ! Where 
is  Skippie  ? Gone ! No  matter.  But  in  truth,  Charges, 
I will  not  injure  my  eyes.  My  journal  has  been  copied  in 
anticipation  of  some  such  announcement  from  the  faithful 
Skippie.  And. you  know  it  is  to  be  enveloped  and  sealed 
by  Kate,  and  opened  at  some  distant  day  when  we  shall 
not  be  living  to  blush  at  our  silly  confessions.  I shall  have 
plenty  of  time.” 

Charles  returned  to  his  room  to  prepare  his  letters,  and 
Julia  likewise  hastened  to  perform  her  task.  And  it  may 
be  remarked  that,  as  our  narrative  is  partly  founded  on 
these  documents,  they  wetfe  faithfully  delivered  by  Skippie. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

HORSE-HUNTING  ADVENTURE  — KENTON  AND  PADDY  — 
GROUND-HOG  KILLED— THE  GIRLS  CAPTURED — THE  PUR- 
SUIT— PETER  AND  HIS  ASS — THE  BATTLE,  AND  RECOVERY 
OF  THE  GIRLS. 

After  the  appearance  of  Brandt,  Charles,  accompanied 
by  such  of  his  party  as  were  disposed  to  go  with  him,  made 
several  excursions  round  the  fort,  always  ending  at  the 
river.  But  no  traces  of  Indians  were  discovered,  and  he 
concluded  his  forest  brother  must  have  come  alone,  cross- 
ing and  recrossing  the  river  at  the  fort. 

After  this  the  vigilance  of  the  people  relaxed  again,  and 
the  girls  resumed  their  twilight  rambles,  forgetting  that,* 
although  no  savages  might  be  within  sixty  miles  of  them  at 
one  noon,  numbers  could  arrive  before  the  next. 

“ Come,  Paddy,”  said  Simon  Kenton,  about  this  time, 
“ let’s  go  and  see  after  the  horses.”  It  had  been  their 
custom  to  count  them  three  times  every  day,  and  to  collect 
the  stragglers. 

u ’Faith,  and  I don’t  see  the  use  of  it,”  said  the  reluctant 
Paddy,  who,  although  accustomed  to  taking  care  of  horses 


SECOND  SERIES. 


219 


in  comfortable  stables,  never  approached  them  in  the  cane 
without  fear  and  trembling. 

“The  use  of  it  ? Don’t  wTe  find  some  of  them  fast  in  the 
vines  almost  every  day  ? There  are  no  Indians  about ; 
but  still  they  require  looking  after.  I will  go  alone,  if  you 
prefer  working  in  the  field  gathering  corn.” 

But  Paddy  did  not  prefer  any  such  labour,  knowing  that, 
if  he  should  be  suddenly  assailed  by  the  Indians  while 
working  in  the  field,  he  would  be  quite  as  liable  to  injury 
as  when  among  the  horses  with  a gun  in  his  hand. 

So  the  two  sallied  forth,  and  were  soon  counting  the 
horses,  which  crowded  around  them  for  their  accustomed 
salt. 

“Hello!”  cried  Kenton,  gazing  about  wildly,  “where’s 
Dan  ?”  This  was  the  name  of  his  favourite  steed. 

“Sure  enough,  where  is  he?”  said  Paddy.  “And  I’d 
like  ye  to  tell  me  who’s  here  to  answer  a question  the 
likes  o’  that?  The  dumb  brutes  can’t  talk  in  our  lan- 
guage, arid  Paddy  knows  jist  about  as  much  as  yerself, 
Mr.  Kenton.” 

“All  the  rest  are  here,”  continued  Kenton.  “It’s 
strange ! Dan  is  generally  the  first  to  lick  my  hand.” 

“ And  who  knows  if  a painter  hasn’t  caught  him  ? They 
say  thim  carniferous  varmints  always  choose  the  best.  If 
there’s  a tinder  woman  about,  they’ll  niver  gnaw  the  bones 
of  a man.  And  it’s  dacent  in  ’em  to  spare  us  who  are 
bound  to  go  out  in  the  wild  woods  and  cane-brakes.  And 
what  is  it  ye’re  listening  to,  Misther  Kenton?” 

Simon  had  stepped  apart  and  stooped  down  in  a listen- 
ing attitude. 

“All  right,  Paddy!”  said  he,  rising  erect  again,  the 
dark  cloud  gone  from  his  brow.  “ I hear  Dan’s  bell.  But 
it’s  a long  wrays  off,  down  the  river.” 

“And  is  he  not  a sinsible  horse?  He’s  promenading 
betwixt  the  stations,  guarding  and  proticting  the  forts. 
He’s  a jewel  of  a baste,  and  good  for  his  weight  in  goold. 
If  we  stay  here  a while  he’ll  come  to  us,  and  so  we  naadn’t 
budge  afther  him.” 

But  this  mode  of  reasoning  did  not  satisfy  Kenton.  He 
insisted  that  something  very  unusual  had  caused  the  sepa- 
ration of  his  best  and  gentlest  animal  from  the  rest.  In- 
deed, the  whole  drove  were  in  the  habit  of  following  Dan’s 


220 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


bell,  and  he  must  hasten  to  see  what  had  happened.  In 
reply  to  Paddy’s  objections  to  going  with  him,  he  merely 
said  if  any  Indians  were  prowling  about  the  greatest 
danger  would  be  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  fort.  And, 
if  Paddy’s  argument  failed  to  convince  Kenton,  Kenton’s 
hint  was  not  thrown  away  on  Paddy,  and  so  they  set  out 
together  down  the  river. 

Their  progress  at  first  was  very  slow,  as  they  traversed 
a dense  cane-brake ; and  when  they  emerged  from  this 
they  encountered  tangled  blackberry-bushes,  often  covered 
with  grape-vines. 

“Och,  but  I’m  torn  all  to  paices,  Misther  Kenton!” 
said  Paddy.  “ Stop,  if  ye  plase,  till  I cut  meself  loose.” 

“Tear  through  ’em,  Paddy,  as  I do,”  said  Kenton; 
“your  buckskin  shirt  and  leggins  can  stand  it.” 

“If  the  skane  of  the  dead  buck  can  stand  it,  Misther 
Kenton,”  said  Paddy,  “ divil  the  bit  can  the  skin  of  a live 
Paddy  ! Me  hands  and  face  are  full  of  prackles,  and  the 
blood  of  a thrue  son  of  Erin  is  flowing  in  this  nasty  wil- 
dherness.” 

“Hush,  Paddy  !”  said  Kenton,  again  placing  his  ear  near 
the  ground.  “ I’ve  lost  the  bell !” 

“ And  what  betther  could  ye  expict  in  sich  a place  as 
this?  And  if  you  iver  find  it  agin  it’ll  not  be  worth  the 
stooping  for.” 

“ There  it  is  !”  cried  Kenton,  smiling.  “I  hear  it  now. 
But  we  must  get  out  of  this.  It  is  over  yonder  in  the 
woods.  Dan’must  have  moved  since  we  started.” 

“ I’m  much  obleeged  till  him.  And  sure  lie’s  a sinsible 
horse  to  lade  us  out  of  these  purgatorious  brambles.  But, 
upon  me  sowl,  I haven’t  yit  heard  the  first  tankle  of  his 
bell!” 

“ You  have  not  lived  in  the  forest,  Paddy,”  said  Kenton, 
leading  the  way  into  the  tall  sumachs,  where  their  progress 
would  be  less  obstructed. 

“That  is  thrue,”  said  Paddy;  “ houses  were  made  for 
men  to  live  in,  the  wild  woods  for  wild  animals  and  black- 
guard savages.  Yit,  Misther  Kenton,  I have  as  many 
ears  and  as  good  ones  as  any  person,  and  now  I hear 
Dan’s  bell.  I did  not  listen  afore.” 

“ We  are  getting  nigher  to  him.  But  what  the  d 1 


SECOND  SERIES. 


221 


did  he  straggle  out  here  for  ? And  why  didn’t  the  rest  go 
with  him  ?” 

“ Will  ye  tell  me  one  thing,  Misther  Kenton  ?” 

“May-be  so.” 

“Wasn’t  it  wrong  in  him  to  come  out?” 

“ Yes,  hang  me  if  it  wasn’t !” 

“ Hang~me,  then,  if  it  wasn’t  right  in  the  others  not  to 
go  wid  him ! And  so  Mr.  Dan  must  give  up  his  bell  to 
Misther  Charles’s  horse.” 

“ I don’t  believe  he  did  it  without  a cause.  His  bell- 
band  may  be  fast  to  a bush.  Good-morning  to  your  night- 
cap !”  This  was  uttered  when  a large  buck  sprang  up  a few 
paces  in  front  of  them,  and  bounded  away  with  his  tail  erect, 
the  under  or  white  portion  of  it,  as  usual,  exposed  to  view. 

“Be  jabers,  he’s  stopped  to  look  at  us!”  said  Paddy, 
throwing  his  gun  up  to  his  shoulder. 

“ Don’t  fire  !”  said  Kenton. 

“ Don’t  fire  ? And  what’s  your  raison  for  that  same  ?” 
“ I have  a reason.” 

“ And  won’t  ye  tell  it  before  the  deer’s  gone  ?” 

“ Oh,  he’s  gone  long  ago.  Don’t  you  see  him  rushing 
over  the  ridge  yonder,  three  hundreds  yards  off?” 

Paddy,  on  turning  his  head  again,  caught  a glimpse  of 
the  buck  at  the  place  indicated.  He  seemed  much  offended, 
and  followed  his  companion  several  minutes  in  silence,  and 
until  Kenton  paused  abruptly,  his  lips  slightly  parted  and 
his  rifle  half  in  readiness  to  fire. 

“And  what’re  ye  frowning  about  now?”  asked  Paddy; 
“ any  child  can  hear  the  bell  widout  stooping  down  till  the 
falthy  ground.” 

“ Hush !”  said  Kenton,  in  a low  voice.  “ Sit  down  here 
with  me,  and  don’t  speak  above  a whisper.” 

“Not  spake  above  a whasper ! For  fear,  I suppose,  the 
horse’ll  hear  us  and  run  away?” 

“ Pool !” 

“ Did  ye  mane  that  for  me,  Misther  Kenton  ?” 

“Be  quiet,  if  you  don’t  want  to  lose  your  scalp  !’* 

“ Och,  I beg  yer  pardon,  misther ! And  there  are  In- 
dians about,  sure  enough,  thin?” 

“ I think  so.” 

“ And  how  could  any  one  want  to  lose  his  sculp  ? You; 
oughtn’t  to  name  any  sich  thing  ! I’ll  go  back  !” 

19* 


222 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ I wish  you  were  in  the  fort ! Could  you  find  the  way 
back  yourself  ?” 

“ Niver ! My  head’s  been  turned  and  twisted  so  I 
wouldn’t  know  which  way  to  start.  Won’t  ye  go  wid  me  ?” 

“ And  lose  his  scalp  ? No, ’indeed!  That  fellow’s  hair 
shall  be  dangling  from  my  belt  when  I go  in,  or  my  name’s 
not  Simon  Kenton  ! Poor  Dan’s  gone — that’s  certain  !” 

“ Won’t  ye  explain  all  this  to  me,  Misther  Kenton?  I 
can’t  understhand  a jot  of  it.” 

“ The  yaller  rascal’s  stolen  my  horse,  and  thinks  he  is 
sure  of  my  scalp  in  the  bargain.  Didn’t  you  hear  that  ?’ 
66  The  bell,  ye  mane?  Of  coorse?” 

“ Well,  are  there  any  flies  at  this  season? 

“No,  not  that  I knows  of.  But  there’s  abundance  of 
flaas  in  the  garrison.” 

“ That  bell  is  not  shaken  by  Dan.  It  is  in  the  hand  of 
an  Indian !” 

“ Let’s  begone,  Misther  Kenton  ! Let’s  give  the  alarm 
to  the  paple.  Run  as  fast  as  ye  plase,  and  I’ll  kape  up 
wid  ye !” 

“ Hush  ! Be  quiet ! I will  take  that  yaller  rascal’s  scalp 
in  with  me,  or  Sue  Calloway  and  Simon  Kenton  will  never 
be  man  and  wife  ! I place  my  hand  on  this  log  and  swear 
to  it!” 

“ And  all  for  a single  horse,  whicliTl  be  bit  by  a rattle- 
snake next  summer !” 

“ Paddy,  you  must  do  precisely  what  I tell  you,  or 
creep  back  to  the  fort  alone !” 

“ Will  ye  tell  me  to  do  ony  thing  dangerous  ?” 
“Dangerous?  We  don’t  know  what  that  means.  There’s 
no  such  word  in  Kentucky.  All  that  I want  you  to  do  is 
to  hide  under  this  log,  and  not  let  your  own  ears  hear  a 
rustle  from  you,  or  you  may  be  tomahawked.” 

“I’ll  be  still  as  a mice!  And  mayn’t  I cover  meseif 
wid  the  laves  ?” 

“I  don’t  care.  When  you  hear  my  gun ” 

• “ Och,  Misther  Kenton,  how  am  I to  tell  yer  gun  from 
an  Indian’s  ? It  may  be  the  report  of  a blackguard  ra- 
vage’s rifle  shooting  yerself !” 

“ Shooting  your  granny ! I thought  everybody  could 
tell  the  crack  of  my  rifle.  I can  tell  Boone’s,  blindfolded 
Every  man’s  voice  is  different,  and  so  is  his  gun’s.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


223 


“ And  Paddy’s  schoolmasther  didn’t  tache  him  the  lan- 
guage o’  rifles !” 

“No  matter.  The  first  gun  you  hear  will  be  mine,  and 
the  yaller  rascal  shaking  the  bell  will  be  sprawling  on  his 
face  and  the  hot  blood  pouring  out  of  his  head.  When 

you  hear  my  gun,  jump  up  and  make  a d 1 of  a noise. 

Fire  off  your  gun — load  and  fire  as  fast  as  you  can — beat 
the  bushes,  yell,  talk  Irish,  and  make  ’em  believe — that 
is,  if  any  more  of  ’em  are  about — at  least  twenty  men  are 
coming.  Now  hide  yourself!” 

Paddy,  knowing  he  could  never  find  the  way  back  to  the 
station  without  a guide,  was  under  the  necessity  of  obeying. 
Then  Kenton  rose  up  and  uttered  a prolonged  and  not  un- 
musical halloo,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  to  attract 
the  ear  of  his  horse,  which  had,  like  most  other  horses, 
learned  to  know  the  voice  of  his  master.  Immediately 
after,  the  bell  was  shaken  quite  loudly,  in  imitation  of  the 
rattle  made  by  a horse  suddenly  lifting  his  head. 

Kenton  smiled,  and  was  just  about  to  glide  away  in  a 
different  direction  from  that  whence  the  sound  of  the  bell 
proceeded,  when  he  was  called  to  softly  by  Paddy. 

“Misther  Kenton!  Misther  Kenton!”  said  he,  “for 
the  sake  of  the  Ilowly  Immaculate  Mother,  don’t  be  afther 
calling  ’em  here,  and  laving  me  to  be  tomahawked  be 
meself !” 

“ Lay  still,  you fool,  and  be  silent,  or  I’ll  tomahawk 

you  myself,  and  be  rid  of  you!” 

“ Och,  murther !”  said  Paddy,  submissively  sinking  back 
under  the  leaves. 

Kenton  glided  away  stealthily,  and  made  a wide  circuit, 
so  as  to  attain  the  opposite  side  of  the  locality  of  the  bell. 
He  knew  every  inch  of  the  ground,  and  was  aware  that 
the  Indian  was  posted  in  a dense  grove  of  sugar-maples, 
some  forty  yards  from  the  thicket  of  sumachs  in  the  midst 
of  which  Paddy  was  ensconced,  and  precisely  in  front  of 
the  deer-path  leading  through  it  into  the  woods ; and  he 
was  satisfied  the  face  of  the  foe  would  be  kept  steadily  in 
that  direction.  Hence  his  motive  for  the  loud  halloo  before 
executing  his  project  of  circumvention. 

No  cat  ever  moved  with  less  noise  than  Kenton  in  the 
execution  of  his  well-conceived  purpose.  And  so  far  was 
ne  from  experiencing  any  trepidation,  that  more  than  once 


221 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


he  was  under  the  necessity  of  pausing  to  repress  an  inclin«v 
tion  to  laugh  at  the  anticipated  astonishment  of  the  Indian 
and  the  ludicrous  picture  his  fancy  painted  of  a savage 
watching  in  readiness  to  shoot  him  as  he  emerged  from  the 
sumachs,  when  he  should  be  aiming  at  the  back  of  the 
Indian’s  head  from  the  opposite  direction. 

And  there  was  an  instinctive  prescience  in  his  concep- 
tion. For  when  he  approached  the  designated  point,  with- 
out the  crush  of  a leaf  or  the  disturbance  of  a bough,  he 
beheld  the  Indian,  with  the  bell  in  his  hand  and  a compa- 
nion at  his  side,  sitting  on  the  fallen  trunk  of  a tree  which 
Kenton  himself  had  cut  down  to  capture  a bear. 

The  Indians  were  laughing  silently  at  the  anticipated 
success  of  their  stratagem,  and  expressing  by  mimicry  the 
amazement  they  had  no  doubt  their  victim  would  exhibit 
when,  instead  of  seeing  his  horse,  he  should  find  himself  a 
prisoner  or  hear  the  whistling  of  their  balls  before  he  could 
present  his  own  rifle. 

Kenton  paused  and  surveyed  them  when  about  forty 
paces  distant.  Their  faces  were  steadily  turned  toward  the 
place  where  the  path  entered  the  woods ; and  they  were  so 
near  it  they  could  have  heard  the  approach  of  the  horse- 
hunter  before  he  came  in  view.  Their  position  on  that  side 
was  sufficiently  obscured  by  the  intervening  trees  to  render 
any  extraordinary  precaution  unnecessary. 

But  they  were  exposed  on  the  other  side ; and  Kenton 
was  determined  they  should  hear  from  him,  if  they  did  not 
see  him,  although  he  was  a little  embarrassed  by  the  pre- 
sence of  one  more  than  he  had  calculated  upon.  Shifting 
his  position  several  times  for  the  purpose  of  getting  their 
heads  in  a line,  so  as  to  perforate  them  both,  several  minutes 
were  fruitlessly  expended.;  for,  from  the  shape  of  the  fallen 
trunk  and  the  inequality  in  the  height  of  the  Indians,  the 
project  was  impracticable. 

He  poured  out  a charge  of  powder  in  his  buckhorn  tube 
and  placed  it  beside  a bullet  at  the  root  of  the  tree  behind 
which  he  was  standing,  so  that  he  might  be  in  readiness  to 
repeat  his  fire  before  the  surviving  enemy  could  rush  upon 
him.  Then,  taking  a deliberate  aim  at  the  one  with  the 
bell,  whom  he  recognised  as  the  liberated  chief,  Ground- 
IIog,  and  the  original  owner  of  the  horse  Dan,  he  fired. 
The  bell  and  Indian  fell  together.  The  other  Indian  sprang 


SECOND  SEMES. 


225 


up  astounded,  and,  after  glancing  hurriedly  in  every  direc- 
tion but  the  right  one,  prostrated  himself  beside  his  welter- 
ing companion,  as  if  to  elude  the  aim  of  an  enemy. 

Kenton,  meanwhile,  lost  no  time  in  recharging  his  rifle ; 
and  the  surviving  Indian,  finding  himself  not  assaulted, 
and  not  knowing  where  the  foe  might  be  concealed,  hastened 
to  make  his  escape.  But,  as  is  almost  invariably  the  case, 
he  determined  to  bear  off  his  dead  comrade.  So,  being  a 
broad-shouldered,  stalwart  fellow,  he  rose  with  his  neck 
between  the  dead  one’s  legs,  the  feet  in  front  and  the  body 
behind,  back  to  back ; and  with  his  burden  he  ran  through 
the  woods,  continually  turning  to  shield  himself  from  the 
aim  of  $ny  foe  that  might  be  watching  by  interposing  the 
dead  Indian. 

So  skilful  were  his  manoeuvres  that  Kenton  was  finally 
under  the  necessity  of  firing  through  the  dead  body  to  reach 
the  living  Indian.  And  this  he  did  effectually,  for  they 
both  lay  prostrate  a moment  after  the  discharge  of  his 
rifle.  He  ran  up  and  scalped  them,  dispatching  the  last 
victim,  who  had  been  only  desperately  wounded,  with  his 
tomahawk. 

No  sooner  was  this  bloody  work  accomplished  than  Dan 
was  discovered  a few  paces  distant,  behind  the  roots  of  an 
immense  fallen  tree.  Thither  the  savage  was  bearing  his 
companion,  and  would  have  soon  effected  his  escape. 
Kenton  threw  his  arms  round  the  neck  of  his  snorting  steed 
in  a loving  embrace,  and  then,  mounting  him,  dashed  into 
the  sumach-thicket  where  Paddy  lay  concealed. 

“ Paddy!  Paddy!  Where  are  you?”  cried  Kenton,  his 
horse  standing  with  his  neck  arched  over  the  log  where 
Paddy  had  buried  himself. 

“And  is  it  yerself  who  asks?”  replied  Paddy,  in  a tre- 
mulous voice,  and  at  the  same  time  springing  up  from  the 
leaves, — an  apparition  which  frightened  Dan,  and  Kenton 
was  near  being  thrown. 

“ Yes.  Why  didn’t  you  answer  me  at  first?” 

“ And  how  could  I know  it  was  yerself  till  ye  towld  me  ? 
Murther ! murther ! I see  the  nasty  sculps  hanging  to  ver 
belt!” 

“ Two  of  ’em,  Paddy!  So  Sue  Calloway  and  I may  be 
man  and  wife  after  all,  if  she’ll  have  me.  But  why  didn’t 
you  fire  and  shout  as  I told  you?” 


226 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“Now  come,  Misther  Kenton,  how  could  I tell  they 
wasn’t  running  this  way,  right  over  a body?” 

“ Well,  suppose  they  had  ? Wouldn’t  you  have  ’em  come 
where  you  could  see  ’em  ?” 

“ Och,  murther  ! they  might’ve  kilt  me,  and  Paddy,  sure, 
would  niver  have  enjoyed  the  smiles  of  any  darlint  wTife.” 

“ But  there  would  have  been  no  danger.  Your  firing 
and  shouting  would  have  frightened  them  away.” 

“ D’ye  say  that  ? And,  sure  enough,  there’d  be  no 
danger?  Then  here  goes  for  a spicimen  of  the  noise  I can 
make  in  a case  of  needcissity !”  And  he  sprang  upon 
the  log  and  fired  his  gun,  and  yelled,  and  howled,  and 
beat  and  twisted  the  bushes,  to  such  a furious  extent  that 
Kenton,  half  dead  wdth  laughter,  was  forced  to  alight  from 
his  amazed  horse  to  keep  from  being  thrown. 

“Are  you  mad?”  cried  Kenton. 

“ Mad,  is  it  ? As  blazes  !”  said  Paddy,  firing  off  his  gun 
again.  “Am  I not  fighting  the  Indians?” 

“ You  are  making  a fool  of  yourself ; and  if  there  are 
any  more  in  hearing  they’ll  soon  put  a stop  to  your  howl- 
ing. That’s  not  the  noise  a brave  man  makes,  and  I’ll 
leave  you !” 

“Misther  Kenton!  Misther  Kenton!”  cried  Paddy,  in- 
stantly sobered,  “ ye  are  the  bravest  and  the  best  man  in 
the  world,  and  I will  tell  iverybody  of  yer  great  dades  this 
day.  And  sure,  now,  ye’ll  let  me  ride  behint  ye  ?” 

Kenton  could  not  resist  the  flattery;  and,  after  some 
difficulty,  Dan  permitted  Paddy  to  occupy  a seat  on  his 
strong  back ; but  there  was  no  more  Irish  howling. 

Kenton,  when  approaching  the  station,  uttered  the  horse- 
halloo,  a sort  of  whinnying  yell  used  by  the  scouts  to  denote 
their  success  in  the  acquisition  of  horses.  He  listened  in 
vain  for  a response.  All  seemed  to  be  silent.  Astonished 
and  somewhat  chagrined  at  this,  he  sounded  the  startling 
scalp-halloo.  This  never  failed  to  produce  a prodigious  ex- 
citement among  Indians  or  borderers.  But  on  that  occa- 
sion, and  to  the  amazement  of  Kenton,  only  one  or  twc 
responsive  voices  were  heard ; and  when  he  dashed  through 
the  gate  there  v7as  no  enthusiastic  crowd  to  receive  him 
with  plaudits. 

Boone  approached  and  examined  the  scalps  in  grave 
silence.  McSvdne  sat  apart  with  a dark  cloud  on  his 


SECOND  SERIES. 


227 


brow.  Van  Wiggens  was  still,  staring  at  liis  dog,  and 
“Vatch”  himself  stood  like  a marble  quadruped,  his  blunt 
tail  sticking  up  immovably.  The  voice  of  Mr.  Jones  was 
heard  in  the  large  cabin  where  he  usually  preached.  He 
was  praying  fiercely.  Maledictions  were  uttered  and 
vengeance  invoked. 

“ Oh,  Mr.  Kenton,”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Calloway,  rushing 
out  into  the  araa,  her  long  hair  streaming  loosely  behind, 
“ they’ve  got  her  !” 

“Got  who?  who’s  got?  what’s  what?”  cried  Kenton, 
quickly,  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  and  almost  unnerved 
by  the  indefinable  apprehensions  which  oppressed  him,  in- 
tensified by  the  singular  change  in  the  countenances  of  all 
and  the  disordered  hair  and  tearful  eyes  of  the  woman. 

“ Sue  ! the  Indians  have  got  Sue  !”  she  screamed;  and 
then  fell  prostrate  at  the  feet  of  the  scout,  whose  breathing 
was  quick  and  oppressive. 

“ Oh,  - — — them  !”  cried  Kenton,  in  a shrill  voice  which 
rang  throughout  the  building. 

“Yes,  tarn  dem !”  said  Yan  Wiggens. 

“ Vatch”  barked  fiercely. 

“ Come ! come  !”  cried  Charles,  rushing  into  the  area 
full-armed,  and  habited  as  an  Indian.  “We  want  ten  men 
— the  best  in  the  station — all  volunteers — to  go  in  pursuit. 
Boone  and  I will  lead.” 

Then  Kenton,  as  if  his  sinews,  which  had  been  appa- 
rently paralyzed,  were  suddenly  enfranchised  from  the 
spell  that  bound  them,  sprang  up  in  the  air,  and,  striking 
his  feet  together  several  times  before  descending,  crowed 
vociferously,  like  a cock. 

“I  knew  you’d  be  one,  Simon,”  said  Boone. 

“ One ? and  Sue  gone  ? — I’ll  be  six!”  and,  letting  his 
rifle  fall  gently  to  the  earth,  he  struck  the  palm  of  his  left 
hand  a violent  blow  with  the  fist  of  his  right. 

“Mary’s  gone  too !”  said  Boone,  in  a husky  voice. 

“0  Lord!”  said  Kenton;  “and  I was  after  Dan,  and 
didn’t  know7  it ! But  we’ll  foller  ’em  to  the  other  end  of 
creation  ! They’ve  roused  a hornets’  nest  now ! I feel  as 
strong  as  a buffalo  bull  ! I could  bite  off  the  head  of  a 
nail!  I could — ” 

“And  Julia!”  said  Charles — “they’ve  taken  her  too!” 

“That  clips  my  tongue  !”  said  Kenton,  striding  in  front 


228 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


of  Charles  and  gazing  steadfastly  in  his  face.  “ I’m  dumb 
now.  I can’t  curse  a bit.  I feel  like  having  the  lock-jaw. 
My  arms  ache ! I could  bust  a rock  with  my  fist ! I’d 
agree  to  strip  and  fight  ten  Indians  at  once.  They  might 
have  their  tomahawks;  all  I’d  ask  would  be  my  knuckles 
and  my  teeth ! Why  are  we  standing  here  like  scared 
turkeys  that  don’t  know  which  way  to  fly  ? Don’t  let  us 
burn  daylight,  or  moonlight  either.  Where’s  the  volun- 
teers ? I’m  six !” 

The  number  designated,  after  such  a speech  from  Kenton, 
were  in  instant  readiness ; and  the  most  extraordinary 
thing  was  the  persistence  of  Paddy  in  his  resolution  to  ac- 
company them.  He  said  if  the  girls  were  not  recovered 
he  didn’t  care  to  keep  his  “ sculp.” 

The  three  girls  had  been  .seized  by  a party  of  Indians 
near  the  spring,  on  the  river-bank,  just  after  Kenton  and 
Paddy  departed  in  quest  of  the  horses.  They  had  crossed 
the  river  in  the  night  in  a canoe,  which  they  concealed  in 
the  bushes  near  the  water,  and  then  hid  themselves  in  the 
vicinity.  The  seizure  of  the  girls  was  followed  so  quickly  by 
the  pushing  off  of  the  canoe  that,  by  the  time  their  screams 
had  roused  the  men  in  the  fields,  they  had  been  conveyed 
to  the  opposite  shore  of  the  river.  Their  captors  were 
only  four  in  number ; but  on  the  northern  bank  they  were 
joined  by  ten  others.  They  hastened  away  toward  the 
Ohio,  but  rather  in  a northwest  course  than  in  the  line 
the  fugitives  had  traversed  from  the  Scioto 

The  girls  were  placed  on  Indian  ponies,  while  most  of 
their  captors  ran  on  foot.  Kenton  had  diminished  the 
number  of  horses  in  the  Indian  country. 

Julia  looked  round,  expecting  to  see  Brandt ; but  he  was 
not  present;  nor  were  any  Mohawks  among  them.  All 
were  Senecas. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  before  they  were  met  by 
Peter  Shaver,  on  his  jackass,  whom  the  Indians  abused  for 
lagging  behind.  Peter  had  been  a volunteer  in  the  expe- 
dition, breathing  vengeance  against  the  whites,  but  deter- 
mined, at  the  first  opportunity,  to  desert  to  them  ; and  it 
was  to  prevent  such  an  occurrence,  perhaps,  that  he  was 
required  to  retain  his  ass,  which  could  not  be  beaten  out  of 
his  slow  gait  nor  easily  made  to  abandon  the  scenes  and 
society  to  which  it  had  so  long  been  accustomed ; and,  be- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


229 


sides,  the  chief  “Popcorn”  afforded  a fund  of  amusment 
which  the  Indians  enjoyed  most  heartily,  and  no  doubt 
Peter’s  life  had  been  spared  that  he  might  continue  to  be 
the  laughing-stock  of  the  savage  warriors. 

“You  know  the  jack  can’t  keep  up,”  said  Peter,  in 
deprecation  of  their  reproaches. 

“You  be  dern  !”  said  the  leader. 

Just  then  the  ass,  snuffing  the  breeze  which  blew  from 
the  south,  and  upon  which  was  borne  the  scent  of  the  blood 
of  the  Indians  slain  by  Kenton,  began  to  bray. 

“Dern  ! stop  him  !”  cried  the  leader  of  the  party,  who 
drew  his  knife  and  threatened  to  cut  the  animal’s  throat. 

“Wait  till  I get  down  !”  said  Peter,  not  at  all  reluctant 
to  be  rid  of  his  ass.  “Now  cut  away  as  soon  as  you  please,” 
said  he,  when  dismounted. 

This  produced  some  laughter  when  the  Indians  compre- 
hended the  reason  of  Popcorn’s  willingness  to  sacrifice  his 
long-eared  steed ; and  therefore  the  animal’s  life  was 
spared.  But  they  choked  him  into  silence,  and,  turning 
his  head  back,  whipped  him  along  the  path  in  the  rear  of 
the  ponies. 

Then  ensued  an  animated  conversation  among  the  In- 
dians, in  their  own  dialect,  some  portions  of  which  Julia 
was  enabled  to  understand.  They  were  discussing  the 
probable  result  of  the  pursuit  they  anticipated, — the  num- 
ber of  pursuers,  and  how  many  would  be  left  to  defend  the 
station.  From  this  Julia  inferred  the  object  was  to  weaken 
the  garrison. 

Mary  and  Sue,  though  seemingly  quiet  and  subdued, 
had  not  forgotten  the  lessons  learned  in  the  wilderness, 
repeated  at  many  a glowing  fireside.  They  broke  off  small 
boughs  from  the  bushes,  and  strewed  fragments  of  their 
handkerchiefs,  and  threads  drawn  from  their  clothing,  in 
the  path  they  were  traversing. 

This  operation  was  seen  and  understood  by  the  leading 
chief ; and  he  did  not  forbid  it  until  they  reached  the  head- 
waters of  the  South  Fork  of  Licking  River,  near  where 
Mount  Sterling  stands.  Here  every  effort  was  made  to 
conceal  their  trail.  The  girls  were  threatened  with  the 
torture  if  they  did  not  cease  to  scatter  threads  and  twigs 
vn  the  ground. 

Daylight  was  fading,  and  the  shimmering  stars  appeared 

20 


2S0 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


in  the  east;  and,  although  the  girls  were  both  weary  and 
hungry,  their  captors  paid  no  attention  to  their  alleged 
wants.  On  the  contrary,  they  were  forced  to  ride  among 
the  slippery  rocks  in  the  midst  of  the  stream,  then  exceed- 
ingly low,  as  there  had  been  a prolonged  drought.  The 
Indians,  sure  of  foot  and  reckless  of  exposure,  followed. 
The  ass  was  sometimes  urged  forward  by  blows  behind,  or 
dragged  along  by  the  ears.  In  this  manner  they  proceeded 
several  miles,  leaving,  as  they  thought,  no  trace  behind 
them.  But  the  Indians  were  outwitted  by  the  girls,  as 
many  wiser  men  had  been  before  them.  In  the  dusky 
shades  of  the  clustering  boughs,  the  Senecas  could  not  pre- 
vent their  captives  from  detaching  some  of  their  long  silken 
hair  and  hanging  it  on  the  willows. 

Their  progress  was  now  very  slow,  and  it  seemed  they 
had  no  intention  of  flying  far.  The  object  was  to  confuse 
their  pursuers.  The  girls  were  dismounted  when  the  water 
became  deeper.  'The  ponies  and  the  ass  were  taken  to  the 
opposite  side  and  driven  down  the  right-hand  bank  of  the 
stream,  while  the  captives  were  conducted  along  a path  on 
the  other  side,  which  soon  diverged  from  the  river  and 
led  into  the  hills. 

It  was  a well-beaten  path,  and  quite  dusty.  The  girls 
were  ordered  to  keep  in  the  centre  of  it  and  follow  their 
leader  in  single  file.  Behind,  an  old  Indian  brought  up 
the  rear,  obliterating  the  footprints  with  a bough  of  cedar, 
and  leaving  no  traces  but  his  own  moccasin-tracks. 

They  travelled  thus  until,  from  the  height  of  the  moon, 
the  girls  supposed  it  to  be  near  midnight,  when  they  again 
struck  the  river,  which  had  increased  in  width  and  volume. 
They  descended  the  bluff*  and  halted  in  a beech-bottom, 
near  the  mouth  of  a small  rivulet  that  emptied  into  the 
larger  stream.  And  here  they  were  surprised  to  find  the 
ponies,  the  ass,  and  the  Indians  who  had  separated  from 
them  several  miles  back. 

The  poor  girls,  supposing  they  would  be  compelled  to 
mount  again  and  pursue  the  journey  all  night,  wrere  ready 
to  despair.  They  feared  it  would  be  impossible  for  their 
friends  to  follow.  But  no  indignities  were  offered  them, 
which,  at  least,  was  an  assurance  that  their  lives  would  be 
spared.  The  Indian  never  insults  his  female  prisoner 
unless  he  means  to  kill  her  afterward.  And  Peter 


SECOND  SERIES. 


231 


Shaver  had  several  times  made  encouraging  winks  and 
gestures. 

The  girls  were  not  required  to  mount  the  ponies  again 
that  night.  A fire  was  kindled  under  a rude  shelter  hastily 
constructed,  and  some  buffalo-tongue,  sliced  and  broiled, 
sufficed  for  their  supper 

Not  fearing  their  captives  would  attempt  an  escape,  the 
Indians  returned  upon  their  trail  for  the  purpose  of  more 
effectually  destroying  it.  Peter,  known  to  be  incapable 
of  finding  his  way  in  any  direction  in  the  absence  of  a 
beaten  path,  was  left  to  keep  the  fire  replenished. 

It  was  during  this  temporary  withdrawal  of  the  savages 
that  Julia  learned  from  Peter  that  their  seizure  was  to  be 
attributed  to  Queen  Esther,  and  that  Brandt  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  it.  On  the  contrary,  the  great 
sachem  had  returned,  silent  and  terrible  in  his  gloom, 
from  a solitary  excursion,  and,  leading  his  people  toward 
the  East,  announced  his  intention  to  strike  his  tomahawk 
into  the  heads  of  the  white  people  living  nearest  to  the 
Eastern  lakes.  His  aunt,  Gentle  Moonlight,  and  sister, 
Brown  Thrush,  were  still  remaining  at  Chillicothe  when 
Peter  left  the  village;  and  Calvin  likewise  remained,  and 
had  been  promised  the  hand  of  the  beautiful  Indian  girl 
provided  he  would  head  the  Delawares,  who  had  just  joined 
the  confederacy  of  the  Six  Nations.  To  this,  however,  he 
objected;  and  Gentle  Moonlight  did  not  sanction  the 
project.  The  forest  maiden  wTas  silent,  knowing  her  aunt 
could  dispose  of  her  as  she  pleased.  But  she  sang  con- 
tinually of  the  White  Eagle,  and  her  thoughts  and  dreams 
were  of  the  woods,  and  streams,  and  flowers,  beyond  the 
grave. 

When  their  captors  returned,  the  girls  were  ordered  to 
occupy  a small  space  in  the  crotch  of  a fallen  tree  near  the 
fire.  Leaves  sufficed  for  a couch,  and  a buffalo  robe  for  a 
shelter  from  the  dew  or  frost..  They  kept  themselves  warm 
by  clinging  together  under  their  weighty  coverlet,  and  en- 
deavoured to  cheer  each  other  with  such  prospects  of  a 
speedy  rescue  as  the  circumstances  afforded.  Their  whis- 
pers were  at  last  hushed  in  slumber,  for  the  idea  of  escape, 
unassisted  by  their  friends,  never  occurred  to  them.  They 
dreamed  of  those  they  loved  best,  and  that  they  had  been 
delivered  from  the  hands  of  the  enemy;  but  in  the  morn- 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


mg  they  awoke  to  the  sad  consciousness  that  they  were  still 
in  captivity 

After  a slight  repast  the  journey  was  resumed ; and  the 
Indians  were  merry  with  the  conviction  that  they  had 
effectually  concealed  their  trail. 

Their  progress  the  second  day  was  neither  rapid  nor  in 
the  most  direct  course  for  the  Ohio  River ; and  it  became 
evident  that  the  Indians  looked  for  the  arrival  of  friends 
who  would  be  interposed  between  their  captives  and  the 
stations  of  the  white  men.  Being  out  of  meat,  several  of 
the  warriors  diverged  from  the  path  in  quest  of  deer,  and 
their  rifles  were  soon  heard  in  various  directions.  This 
convinced  Mary  Boone  that  they  no  longer  feared  pursuit; 
but  it  did  not  quite  extinguish  her  hope. 

The  first  deer  brought  in,  as  usual,  set  Peter’s  ass  to 
braying.  Mary  could  not  avoid  laughing,  and  the  Indians 
patted  her  on  the  head  and  said,  “ Brave  Captain  Boone’s 
daughter — laugh  at  Popcorn’s  jack — good  squaw!”  And 
it  was  a singular  characteristic  of  the  Indian  to  praise,  and 
spare,  and  love  Boone,  whom  they  dreaded  more  than  any 
other  foe. 

In  the  evening  they  encamped  at  an  early  hour,  having 
recrossed  the  Licking.  The  place  where  they  rested  wTas 
at  the  mouth  of  a creek  emptying  into  the  river,  known 
since  by  the  name  of  Indian  Creek,  about  a mile  from 
Cynthiana.  It  was  a narrow  bottom,  overgrown  with  beech- 
trees,  and  a position  well  adapted  for  defence.  And  here 
the  girls  found  a better  shelter  than  that  of  the  preceding 
night.  It  seemed  to  have  been  an  ancient  camping-ground, 
for  old  forks  were  found  standing. 

Leaving  Peter  with  the  girls,  the  Indians  dispersed  in 
various  directions,  to  be  satisfied,  as  usual,  that  no  enemy 
lurked  in  the  vicinity. 

Peter  amused  himself  firing  at  the  ducks  that  pitched 
into  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  that  being  a famous  place  for 
them  to  collect  of  evenings ; and,  finding  a canoe  in  the 
vicinity,  he  obtained  his  victims  without  difficulty.  And 
Mary  and  Sue  undertook  to  dress  and  roast  them.  This 
was  done  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Indians,  who  par- 
took heartily  of  the  fowls,  and  praised  the  girls  for  their 
skill  in  cooking. 

At  night  the  repose  of  the  captives  was  disturbed  by  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


233 


howling  of  wolves.  Those  animals  seemed  to  have  collected 
in  great  numbers  in  the  vicinity ; and  occasionally  their 
glaring  eyeballs,  as  they  stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
creek  and  gazed  at  the  fire,  were  plainly  discernible. 

“ I guess  I can  blot  out  one  of  their  eyes,”  said  Peter, 
raising  his  gun  to  his  shoulder. 

“ Totem  ! — Seneca  Totem  !”  cried  the  leader  of  the  In- 
dians, striking  up  the  muzzle  of  the  rifle ; and  the  ball 
whistled  over  the  tree-tops. 

“I  beg  pardon,”  said  Peter;  “I  forgot  the  wolves  were 
your  brothers,  and  that  I was  connected  with  the  same 
respectable  family.” 

The  Indians  comprehended  his  speech  in  part,  but  did 
not  attach  any  importance  to  the  jest.  But  they  attached  a 
superstitious  signification  to  the  presence  of  the  wolves,  or 
to  their  mode  of  howling  on  that  particular  night.  They 
were  even  kind  enough  to  throw  the  fragments  of  their 
feast  to  them,  but  this  did  not  silence  their  cries. 

“ Mr.  Shaver,”  said  Julia,  as  she  leaned  upon  Sue’s 
friendly  shoulder,  watching  the  glowing  embers,  and  unable 
to  sleep,  “ how  did  you  like  the  family  into  which  you  were 
adopted  ?” 

“ I guess  you  mean  how  I disliked  it.  There  was  no 
liking  in  the  matter.” 

“I  suppose  Mr.  Van  Wiggens  disliked  it  quite  as  much 
as  any  one,  since  he  embraced  the  earliest  opportunity  to 
get  away.” 

“ I guess  he  did.  He  was  my  adopted  mother’s  hus- 
band, you  know.  They  had  a row  the  first  night.  She 
was  drunk,  and  wanted  to  make  him  drunk  too.  And  I 
reckon  he  had  no  particular  objection  to  being  drunk,  for  I 
have  seen  him  in  that  way;  but  it  was  the  most  abominable, 
outrageous  liquor  you  ever  tasted.” 

“ I never  tasted  any,  Peter.” 

“ I beg  pardon.  Even  Paddy,  my  new  brother,  couldn’t 
swallow  it,  and  he  had  a will  to  get  drunk  and  forget  his 
troubles.” 

“ So  none  of  you  tasted  it  ?” 

“ I guess  we  did,  though  ! The  scent  of  the  stuff  filled 
the  wigwam.  It  druv  out  Paddy  and  his  daddy.  I fell 
asleep,  or  I’d’a  gone  too.” 

44  What  did  Diving  Duck  say  in  the  morning?” 

20* 


234 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ It’d’ve  kept  two  or  three  interpreters  busy  to  translate 
her  words.  She  jabbled  like  a whole  flock  of  parroquets. 
She  was  always  a famous  scold,  and  the  Indians  dislike 
scolding  wives  as  much  as  white  men  do.” 

“ Do  they? 

“ Darned  if  they  don’t ! And  some  of  the  squaws  have 
tarnation  bitter  tongues ! But  Didapper,  seeing  she  had 
no  husband  to  listen,  soon  stopped  her  Niagara  Falls  of 
words,  and  took  up  the  frying-pan.  The  frying-pan  is 
wrhat  she  used  to  beat  her  old  man  with.  She  gave  me  a 
rap  over  the  head,  and  it  rings  yet ! And  she  told  me  if  I 
didn’t  bring  back  my  father  she’d  marry  me ! I guess  she 
may,  if  she  ever  catches  me.” 

“ Hush !”  said  Mary,  in  a low  voice. 

“ What  do  you  hear  ?”  asked  Julia. 

“Lie  down,  Peter !”  whispered  Mary;  then,  turning  to 
Julia,  said  her  eye  had  caught  a signal  from  her  father. 

“I  saw  nothing,”  said  Julia. 

“There  it  is  again  !”  said  Mary,  pointing  at  an  acorn 
that  fell  near  the  fire  and  rolled  to  their  feet. 

“ That  is  an  acorn,”  said  Julia. 

“I  know  it,”  responded  the  other.  “T3ut  we  are  not 
under  an  oak-tree.” 

“ If  it  be  your  father,  why  cannot  I see  him  ?”  asked 
Julia,  rising  softly  and  gazing  round.  “No,”  she  con- 
tinued, “ there  are  no  bushes  here  to  hide  any  one.  I fear 
you  are  mistaken.” 

“ I am  not ! The  signal  is  for  us  to  lie  down,  so  as  not 
to  be  in  the  way  of  their  bullets.” 

Julia  involuntarily  clung  closer  to  her  companions,  and 
Peter  himself  seemed  inclined  to  maintain  a more  intimate 
proximity  to  the  girls  than,  under  other  circumstances, 
would  have  been  permitted. 

“ How  quietly  the  Indians  sleep  !”  whispered  Julia. 

“They  always  do,”  said  Mary;  “and  we  must  not  move 
or  speak  above  a whisper,  whatever  we  may  hear  or  see, 
until  bidden  by  my  father.  The  Indians  will  not  have  time 
to  kill  us,  and  we  must  not  be  afraid.’ 

Soon  after,  their  deliverers  were  seen  to  glide  from  be- 
hind the  trees  and  stand  with  their  guns  pointing  at  the 
Indians.  But  the  heads  of  the  girls,  as  they  peered  over 
the  crotch  of  the  fallen  tree,  were  between  the  rifles  and 


SECOND  SERIES. 


235 


the  sleeping  savages.  Boone,  by  an  emphatic  gesture,  com- 
manded them  to  lie  down  and  be  still,  which  they  obeyed 
instinctively.  The  next  moment  a deadly  volley  was  fired 
into  the  midst  of  the  unconscious  savages,,  and  such  as 
escaped  the  fatal  lead  sprang  up,  yelling  horribly,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  forest. 

The  girls  rushed  into  the  arms  of  their  deliverers ; and 
Sue  Calloway  was  embraced,  and  lifted  up,  and  kissed,  by 
Kenton. 

66  Sue  !”  said  he,  44  I’d  wade  through  fire  forty  foot  deep 
to  save  you !”  Sue  said  nothing,  nor  opened  her  eyes,  her 
face  reclining  on  her  deliverer’s  shoulder. 

And  Julia  clung  to  Charles,  while  Mary  wept  with  joy 
on  the  breast  of  her  father. 

“ Be  me  sowl,  I’m  hungry !”  said  Paddy;  44  and  here  the 
savage  blackguards  have  been  having  a fayst  to  thimselves ! 
And  what  do  ye  call  that  same  noise  ?”  he  continued,  ar- 
resting his  hand  as  it  was  conveying  the  half  of  a roasted 
duck  to  his  mouth. 

It  was  the  familiar  sound  of  Peter  Shaver’s  jackass, 
some  forty  paces  distant,  braying  terrifically. 

44  Hello!  Where’s  Popcorn?”  said  Paddy,  upon  recog- 
nising the  voice  of  the  beast. 

44  Here  I am,  Paddy  Pence!”  said  Peter,  rising  up. 

“Divil  take  me  if  I belave  ye!”  cried  Paddy,  aiming 
his  empty  gun  at  Peter’s  breast.  44  You’re  one  of  the  sa- 
vage Indians  who  saized  the  young  ladies.  Surrinder,  or 
you’re  a dead  man  !” 

44  I rather  guess  I can  soon  convince  you  I am  Peter 
Shaver,  if  you’ll  throw  down  the  shooting-iron  and  stand 
up  to  a fair  fist-fight,”  said  Peter,  deeply  affronted. 

44  None  of  your  nonsense  !”  said  Boone  to  Paddy  ; 44  and 
do  you  go  and  stop  that  ass’s  mouth,”  he  continued,  ad- 
dressing Peter,  who  obeyed  reluctantly. 

44 And  what’s  that  same?”  cried  Paddy,  dropping  his 
duck  into  the  fire.  It  was  the  warhoop  of  the  rallied 
Senecas,  and  a moment  after  their  balls  rattled  like  hail 
about  the  fire;  but  none  of  the  party  were  killed,  and  only 
two  were  slightly  wounded.  Boone  and  Charles  deposited 
the  girls  in  the  place  of  security,  and  ordered  the  men  to 
post  themselves  behind  the  trees  out  of  the  light  of  the 
fire.  This  was  done  immediately,  and  a desultory  conflict 


236 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


was  kept  up  until  early  dawn,  when  the  Indians  retired 
into  the  wilderness  beyond  the  creek. 

When  the  gray  morning  appeared,  Charles  left  his  tree 
and  approached  the  shelter  which  concealed  the  girls ; and 
the  first  object  that  attracted  his  gaze  was  the  form  of 
Paddy.  He  was  snoring  lustily  beside  the  silent  though 
watchful  girls.  Charles  roused  him  with  a smart  blow,  and 
the  Irishman  sprang  up  and  stared  in  amazement. 

44 1 was  dhraming,  Misther  Charles, ” said  he. 

44  And  what  business  had  you  here?” 

44  Och,  I was  proticting  the  ladies ! But  I was  so  hungry 
and  tired,  I fell  aslape.  I beg  the  swate  craters’  pardons  !” 

Boone  discovered  a slaughtered  deer  which  the  Indians 
had  hung  upon  a tree  beyond  the  reach  of  the  wolves ; and 
this  sufficed  for  breakfast. 

Without  loss  of  time,  the  party  set  out  on  their  return 
to  the  station.  Kenton  had  found  the  ponies,  which  the 
Indians  left  behind.  But  neither  Peter  Shaver  nor  his  ass 
could  be  seen  ; and  it  was  supposed  he  had  been  recaptured 
by  the  Indians  upon  going  out  to  silence  the  braying. 

44  Be  the  powers,”  said  Paddy,  44may-be  it  wasn’t  Pater 
afther  all ! And  I was  cheek  by  jowl  with  a savage 
inemy  !” 

Although  the  loss  of  Peter  was  naturally  regretted,  yet 
the  party  had  been  too  successful  to  mourn  a great  deal 
over  his  fate,  whatever  it  might  be ; and  the  joy  of  the 
enfranchised  girls  was  a sufficient  recompense  for  their 
fatigues  and  perils. 

And  Sue,  although  Kenton  could  not  obtain  the  pledge 
he  desired,  acknowledged  her  deep  indebtedness  to  her 
brave  and  generous  deliverer. 

Julia,  in  the  exuberance  of  her  recovered  spirits,  amused 
Charles  and  the  rest  with  a recital  of  the  information  she 
had  received  from  Peter  regarding  the  inconsolable  Didap- 
per so  cruelly  deserted  by  her  lord;  and  poor  Van  Wiggens 
was  heartily  congratulated  upon  his  escape  from  the  frying- 
pan. 

44  Tam  dem  ! te  vimmen  !”  said  he.  44  And  I shall  pe  in 
te  fire,  ven  I gets  back  mit  te  oder  Mrs.  Wan  Yiggens !” 

The  hairs  hung  by  Sue  on  the  boughs  pendant  over  the 
water,  as  she  was  assured  by  Kenton,  had  enabled  them  to 
follow  the  trail  of  the  Indians.  But  Sue  did  not  thank  her 


SECOND  SERIES. 


237 


beau  for  the  compliment,  for  her  hair  was  very  led, — a 
colour  never  admired  by  its  possessor. 

Toward  evening,  and  after  a pretty  good  day’s  travel, 
the  party  were  surprised  to  perceive  signs  of  a large  party 
of  Indians,  which  had  passed  southward  within  the  last 
twenty-four  hours.  This  discovery  was  perhaps  a fortunate 
one.  They  might  but  for  it  have  encamped  upon  such 
ground  as  would  have  made  their  fire  visible  to  the  enemy; 
but  now,  instead  of  this,  they  resolved  to  push  forward  and 
cross  the  river  without  halting.  This  they  effected  before 
midnight ; and  their  arrival  at  the  station  was  the  occasion 
of  general  rejoicing  and  of  thanksgiving  by  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Jones. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SIEGE  OF  BOONE’S  STATION,  AND  BATTLES — BROWN  THRUSH. 

Runners  arrived  the  next  day  from  Hoy’s,  Bryant’s, 
Logan’s,  and  Harrod’s  stations,  with  the  startling  intelli- 
gence that  Indians  had  been  seen  in  their  respective  vicini- 
ties. From  the  simultaneous  appearance  of  the  enemy  in 
different  places,  it  was  inferred  that  all  the  forts  were  to  be 
attacked  at  once,  and,  if  possible,  demolished  at  a blow. 

Preparations  were  made  to  repel  any  assault,  and  to 
withstand  a siege.  The  grain  was  gathered  and  all  the 
stock  confined  within  the  hollow  square  of  cabins. 

Nor  had  these  measures  been  taken  a moment  too  soon ; 
for,  the  day  afterward,  the  enemy  appeared  in  considerable 
force  on  the  south  side  of  the  river,  and  surrounded  the  sta- 
tion. They  consisted  principally  of  Indians, — Wyandots, 
Shawnees,  and  Western  Delawares  ; a small  party  of  Brit- 
ish from  Canada,  commanded  by  Duquesne  ; and  some  half 
a dozen  renegade  Americans,  among  whom  were  the  Girtys. 

Duquesne  desired  a parley,  and  professed  to  have  been 
charged  by  Governor  Hamilton  to  offer  such  terms  as  could 
be  honourably  accepted  by  the  settlers.  But  their  treacher- 
ous purpose  was  soon  discovered. 


238 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


From  that  moment  the  deadly  strife  began.  On  all 
sides  the  fort  was  assailed,  for  it  was  surrounded  completely. 
But  the  fatal  aim  of  Kenton,  McSwine,  and  others,  stretched 
so  many  of  the  savages  on  the  plain  that  they  were  com- 
pelled, in  despite  of  Duquesne’s  orders,  to  fall  back  and 
seek  shelter  behind  the  trees  and  under  the  protecting 
bank  of  the  river. 

At  night  the  assault  wTas  renewed,  and  the  besieged  had 
to  fire  at  the  flash  of  the  enemy’s  guns.  The  night  was 
dark,  the  sky  overcast  with  clouds ; and  the  blazing  arrows 
whizzing  through  the  air,  the  continued  fire  of  rifles  with- 
out, in  a crescent  form,  extending  half-way  round  the  fort, 
and,  within,  radiating  outward  to  the  enemy,  formed  a 
grand  and  terrific  spectacle. 

The  females  moulded  bullets  for  their  defenders  and 
carried  them  food,  so  that  they  might  not  be  under  the 
necessity  of  abandoning  their  posts;  and  a certain  num- 
ber of  the  men,  who  were  not  expert  with  the  rifle,  or  un- 
practised in  shooting  “at  the  flash,”  as  it  wras  called,  were 
detailed  for  the  purpose  of  wTatching  the  blazing  arrows 
and  extinguishing  the  roofs  and  sides  of  the  cabins  when 
ignited.  Among  these  Paddy  had  been  placed,  much 
against  his  will,  for  he  greatly  preferred  peering  through  a 
small  loophole  to  exposing  his  person  on  the  huts. 

“And  now,  Mr.  Bone,”  said  he,  leaping  down,  “I 
naadn’t  stay  up  there  ony  more,  for  all  the  water’s  spilt.” 

Boone  long  remained  silent.  His  great  error — indeed 
the  only  error  he  had  committed  in  the  location  of  his  fort — 
was  now  painfully  apparent.  The  spring  was  some  dis- 
tance above,  and  in  possession  of  the  enemy  ! The  stock 
of  water,  as  Paddy  said,  was  exhausted ! 

“Fill  your  buckets  with  the  damp  earth!”  the  pioneer 
exclaimed;  “and  if  that  gives  out  you  must  roll  upon  the 
fire  and  smother  it  with  your  hands.  If  one  cabin  burns, 
all  must  go,  and  every  one  of  us  will  be  scalped !” 

Paddy  rushed  back  to  his  post,  pale  and  desperate.  lie 
thought  it  better  to  be  shot  than  burned;  but  he  kept  as 
much  as  possible  in  the  lee  of  the  apex  of  the  roofs. 

So  far,  only  twTo  of  the  garrison  had  fallen  ; but  the 
enemy  suffered  severely,  and  the  death-halloo  was  heard 
continually,  as  Boone,  or  Kenton,  or  McSwine,  fired  “ at 
the  flash,” — an  achievement  hitherto  unattained  by  the  In- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


239 


dians.  At  first  they  believed  their  warriors  were  accident- 
ally stricken ; but  it  could  not  long  escape  their  observa- 
tion that  they  always  received  the  fatal  wound  in  the  head, 
and  most  generally  in  the  eye,  and  when  in  the  act  of 
firing  themselves.  This  discovery  induced  them  to  observe 
greater  caution,  and  not  to  fire  more  than  once  or  twice 
from  the  same  position. 

Toward  morning  a smart  shower  fell,  much  to  the  relief 
of  the  garrison,  and  apparently  in  answer  to  the  petition 
of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  who  watched  and  prayed  alternately. 
And  about  this  time  the  besiegers  ceased  firing,  and  it  was 
believed  by  some  they  had  abandoned  the  attempt  to  reduce 
the  fort.  This  illusion,  however,  was  soon  dispelled.  For, 
early  in  the  morning,  Kenton,  stuffing  his  buckskin  coat 
with  straw  and  surmounting  it  with  his  cap,  pushed  the 
effigy  through  an  orifice  in  the  roof.  It  represented  one 
looking  out  boldly  on  a field  supposed  to  be  deserted  by 
the  enemy.  In  an  instant  several  sharp  reports  were 
heard,  and,  Kenton  making  the  man  of  straw  fall  back  in 
imitation  of  one  fatally  wounded,  a yell  of  savage  exulta- 
tion was  uttered 

“Look  at  that,  Sue!”  said  Kenton,  pointing  to  the  per- 
forations in  his  garment. 

“ I’ll  mend  it  for  you,  Simon,”  said  she. 

“ Yes,  you’ll  mend  my  coat,  but  you  don’t  care  for  the 
wound  under  my  vest.” 

“That  was  not  done  by  a savage,”  said  Mary,  smiling 
composedly,  being  familiar  with  such  scenes. 

“A  savage  could  not  be  more  unfeeling,”  said  Kenton. 
Then,  listening  to  the  reiterated  shouts  without,  he  con- 
tinued, “ The  yellow  d Is  know  my  coat,  and  are  re- 

joicing over  my  death.  You  see,  Sue,  what  a great  man 
I am  in  their  opinion.  They  count  me  six,  and  I am  six 
in  any  common  crowd ! But  won’t  I astonish  ’em  when 
they  see  me  the  next  time?” 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Boone  and 
Charles,  with  excited  countenances. 

“ Oh,  what  is  the  matter  now?”  asked  Julia. 

“Be  not  alarmed,  Julia,”  said  Charles,  taking  her  cold 
hand.  “We  shall  defeat  them  yet.  Boone  has  conceived 
a plan  which  will  frustrate  the  purpose  of  Duquesne  and 


240 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ What  purpose  do  you  allude  to  ?” 

“ Have  you  not  seen  how  turbid  the  river  has  become  V' 

“Yes.  It  has  been  observed  by  all.  Was  it  not  caused 
by  the  rain  ?” 

“ Look  at  the  stream  above  the  spring.” 

Julia  did  so,  and  perceived  it  was  clear,  and  then  ex- 
claimed, “ They  are  mining  ! They  will  burst  up  the  ground 
and  appear  in  our  midst !” 

“No!  be  the  powers,  no!”  cried  Paddy,  springing  up. 
“And  is  it  undermining  us  they’re  afther ? Let  Paddy 
alone  for  countermining  ’em.  He’ll  be  in  his  ilement  with 
the  spade.  Misther  Bone,  if  ye’ll  give  me  a spade,  I’ll  do 
the  sarvice  of  three  men.  I’ll  give  the  yaller  blackguards 
a lesson  in  the  art  o’  digging !” 

Boone  smiled,  and  said  if  Paddy  and  a few  others  would 
work  with  expedition  the  danger  would  soon  disappear. 
And  Paddy  performed  wonders  with  the  spade, — his  natural 
implement.  But  again  great  distress  was  felt  for  the  want 
of  water,  which,  however,  was  never  suspected  by  Duquesne, 
who  doubted  not  a well  had  been  dug  in  the  fort. 

Another  shower  fell  during  the  day  and  revived  the  spi- 
rits of  the  besieged ; and  toward  evening,  from  the  accu- 
mulation of  earth  thrown  up  by  Paddy  and  his  co-labourers, 
the  Scots,  the  enemy,  perceiving  their  design  had  been 
counteracted,  abandoned  the  attempt  to  effect  a subterra- 
nean passage.  They  recommenced  firing  from  several 
points,  and  manoeuvering  in  such  manner  as  seemed  likely 
to  produce  a sally  from  the  garrison.  Once,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  inducing  the  whites  to  come  forth,  they  affected  to 
be  panic-stricken  and  in  full  retreat  on  one  side,  while  on 
the  other  all  was  silent  and  still,  as  if  no  foe  lurked  in  the 
vicinity. 

It  was  in  vain.  Boone  and  Charles  understood  their 
purpose,  and  succeeded  for  a long  time  in  restraining  the 
more  impetuous  and  less  experienced  of  their  friends  from 
pursuing  the  enemy. 

There  was  one  man,  however,  more  intractable  than  the 
rest,  named  McGary,  who  swore  that  half  the  men  were 
cowards ; and,  late  in  the  day,  when  the  foe  made  a final 
effort  to  draw  them  out  on  the  east,  McGary,  in  disregard 
of  the  urgent  remonstrances  of  Boone,  issued  forth,  fol- 
lowed by  a few  others,  and  charged  the  savages.  Instantly, 


SECOND  SERIES. 


241 


as  had  been  apprehended,  the  main  body  of  Indians  sprang 
up  from  the  place  of  their  concealment  on  the  west,  and 
made  desperate  efforts  both  to  storm  the  garrison  and  to 
intercept  the  sallying  party.  They  reached  the  gate  of  the 
enclosure,  which  they  hacked  with  their  tomahawks.  In 
several  places  they  succeeded  in  setting  fire  to  the  cabins, 
while  a detachment,  led  by  Girty,  got  between  McGary 
and  the  station. 

Boiling  rain-water  and  molten  lead  were  contributed  by 
the  women  to  aid  in  repelling  the  attack;  and  the  fire  was 
extinguished  and  the  assailants  hurled  back  with  loss.  But 
the  situation  of  McGary  and  his  men  became  desperate. 

Driven  from  the  gate  and  the  cabins,  the  main  body  of 
the  enemy  were  soon  concentrated  near  the  spring,  and 
kept  up  an  incessant  firing  on  the  men  who  had  inconsi- 
derately left  the  defences  and  were  now  endeavouring  to 
fight  their  way  back  to  the  friendly  shelter. 

McGary’s  men  at  length  concealed  themselves  in  a “sink- 
hole,”— a funnel-shaped  depression  in  the  earth  often  met 
with  in  Kentucky, — about  ninety  paces  distant  from  the  fort, 
but  not  more  than  forty  from  the  spring.  From  this  posi- 
tion they  returned  the  fire  of  the  enemy  at  the  embank- 
ment of  the  river,  but  were  liable  at  any  moment  to  be 
assailed  from  an  opposite  direction  by  the  decoying  savages 
they  had  gone  in  pursuit  of. 

“There!”  exclaimed  Boone,  listening  intently,  “they 
are  doomed  unless  we  save  them ! Girty  is  coming  on  the 
other  side!” 

“Let’s  plunge  into  ’em  heels  over  head!”  said  Kenton. 

“I  don’t  believe  any  are  now  on  the  west  of  us,”  said 
Charles. 

Boone  darted  a look  of  admiration  at  the  young  man. 

“That’s  the  idea!”  said  he.  “They  must  not  kill 
McGary.  Take  the  Scots  with  you  into  the  brake  and 
make  a circuit  beyond  the  sink-hole.  Give  the  attacking 
halloo  as  a signal.  We  will  meet  you  at  the  spring.” 

Words  were  few  and  brief,  and  the  order  was  executed 
without  delay.  The  enemy  retreated  up  the  river,  leaving 
a number  of  their  dead  on  the  ground,  and  McGary  was 
rescued,  but  not  without  the  loss  of  several  of  his  men. 

Charles  and  Kenton  followed  the  foe  until  they  made  a 
stand  in  the  thick  woods,  when  Boone  sent  them  word — 

21 


242 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES:  * 


himself  remaining  at  the  spring,  supplying  the  garrison  with 
water — to  desist  from  the  pursuit. 

The  order  was  well  timed  ; for  the  enemy,  recovered  from 
the  surprise,  were  preparing  to  charge  in  turn.  *And  when 
the  whites  were  re-entering  the  garrison  the  bullets  of  the 
Indians  were  pattering  around  them. 

The  exasperated  Indians  exposed  themselves  more  reck- 
lessly than  ever,  and  challenged  the  white  men  to  come 
forth  again  and  have  a fair  fight  in  an  open  field.  The 
garrison,  being  outnumbered  three  to  one,  of  course  declined 
the  invitation. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  the  besiegers  were  reinforced 
by  several  straggling  parties ; and  on  each  occasion  the 
accession  was  announced  by  a particular  halloo,  well  under- 
stood by  Charles. 

“ That  was  the  fierce  howl  of  the  Senecas,”  said  Charles 
to  Julia,  whom  he  had  briefly  joined. 

“ The  Senecas  !”  iterated  Julia,  in  terror.  “ I hoped 
they  were  gone  ! Their  presence  here  is  proof  that  you  or 
I,  or  both,  have  especial  reason  for  painful  forebodings.” 

“I  think  not,”  said  Charles.  “No  doubt  it  is  the  party 
which  captured  you,  and  some  of  the  servile  instruments 
of  the  vengeful  Esther.  They  fear  to  appear  in  her  pre- 
sence without  being  able  to  conduct  one  or  both  of  us  thi- 
ther as  prisoners.” 

“And  what  do  you  suppose  would  be  our  fate?”  asked 
Julia. 

“ If  the  council  of  sachems  did  not  interfere  it  would  be 
a terrible  one.  The  longer  Esther  hates,  the  more  impla- 
cable she  becomes ; and  we  have  thus  far  thwarted  her 
designs.” 

“Yes,  it  is  that  party;  I know  it  now,”  said  Julia, 
listening  to  a familiar  sound. 

This  was  the  braying  of  Peter  Shaver’s  ass;  and  it  was 
followed  by  the  shouts  and  mirthful  laughter  of  the  Indians 
and  British.  No  chief  among  them  seemed  to  attract  more 
attention  than  the  renowned  Popcorn. 

Just  then  Paddy  ran  in. 

“ Och,  Misther  Charles,”  said  he,  with  wide-staring  eyes, 
“Misther  Bone  wants  me  to  go  out  and  help  Misther 
Kenton,  who’s  as  crazy  as  a loon,  to  catch  his  horse.  It 
got  out  of  the  gate  and  is  playing  round  the  fort,  and  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


243 


bloody  savages  are  watching  to  kill  the  first  man  wno  lays 
hands  on  him.,, 

“If  it  is  Kenton’s  favourite  steed,”  said  Charles,  it 
must  be  recovered,  or  its  master  will  be  lost.” 

“And  Misther  Bone  says  I ought  to  go  out  and  expose 
me  body  as  a target,  because  the  horse  knows  me.  I shall 
be  careful  in  forming  intimate  acquantances  with  other 
paple’s  horses  hereafther ! I’ll  shoot,  or  I’ll  dig,  but  I 
won’t  go  out  horse-hunting  wid  the  blackguard  savages!” 

When  Charles  accompanied  Paddy  to  the  gate,  which 
was  held  partly  open  to  admit  of  ready  ingress  if  Simon 
should  return  with  his  steed,  he  beheld  a spectacle  which 
riveted  him  to  the  spot.  The  horse,  having  become  im- 
patient of  his  confinement,  was  now  making  amends  by 
taking  sufficient  exercise.  He  ran  round  playfully,  but 
would  not  permit  Kenton  to  approach  near  enough  to  place 
his  hand  on  his  mane.  He  reared,  kicked  up  behind,  and 
then  rapidly  circled  round  his  master. 

The  Indians,  hoping  to  capture  the  spirited  animal,  came 
from  behind  the  trees  and  embankments  which  had  shel- 
tered them,  and  gazed  with  interest  at  the  scene.  They 
hoped  the  horse  would  entice  his  master  within  their  reach  ; 
and  they  forbore  to  fire,  fearing,  if  the  horse  were  killed, 
Kenton  would  elude  their  grasp. 

Alternately,  when  the  steed  avoided  a skilful  attempt  of 
his  master  to  sieze  him,  or  when  Kenton  by  some  ma- 
noeuvre balked  the  horse  in  his  purpose  of  passing  him, 
shouts  of  applause  and  laughter  came  alike  from  the  be- 
sieged and  besiegers.  At  last,  when  all  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  spectacle,  and  the  deadly  strife  seemed  suspended 
by  mutual  consent,  they  were  startled  by  the  renewed  bray- 
ing of  Peter’s  ass,  and  the  next  instant  that  distinguished 
animal,  perhaps  recognising  the  horse  as  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, rushed  forth  from  the  tangled  brake,  with  the 
frightened  Peter  on  his  back.  Peter  strove  in  vain  to  turn 
him  aside,  out  of  the  range  of  the  rifles  of  friend  and  foe, 
to  which  he  was  equally  exposed. 

Fearing  the  loss  or  desertion- of  “Popcorn,”  several  of 
the  Indians  fired  at  the  ass;  but  so  greatly  convulsed  were 
they  with  laughter  that  their  aim  was  wide  of  the  mark, 
and  Peter  was  resistlessly  borne  along  toward  the  fort. 
The  noble  horse  pricked  forward  his  ears  and  stared  at  the 


244 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


approaching  beast.  Evidently  he  did  not  recognise  his  old 
acquaintance,  whether  from  contempt  of  his  meaner  nature 
or  because  of  the  change  in  his  aspect — for  the  Indians 
had  painted  the  poor  creature  most  fantastically — was  not 
obvious ; but,  snorting  loudly,  the  noble  steed  turned  and 
ran  toward  the  gate,  followed  by  Kenton,  and  both  were 
quickly  admitted  within  the  enclosure,  amid  the  yells  and 
huzzas  of  the  spectators. 

44 Don’t  shoot  me!  Don’t  shoot  me!”  cried  Peter,  his 
braying  ass  still  trotting  directly  toward  the  gate.  44  Don’t 
shoot !”  he  continued,  with  his  arms  spread  out,  and  his 
face  turned  now  toward  the  fort  and  now  in  the  direction 
of  the  besiegers.  66 1 ain’t  an  Indian  ! I ain’t  an  Indian  !” 
cried  he  ; 44  and  I guess  I’m  on  your  side  !” 

44  Who  are  you  ?”  demanded  the  man  at  the  gate,  who 
had  never  before  seen  Peter  or  his  ass. 

44  I’m  Peter  Shaver  ! I’m  Peter  Shaver  ! Don’t  shoot ! 
Let  me  in !” 

Boone  himself  threw  open  the  gate  and  admitted  Peter. 
And  wThen  the  jack  met  his  numerous  acquaintances,  male 
and  female,  within  the  area,  he  ran  about  and  brayed  very 
rapturously. 

There  was  much  joy  over  the  recovery  of  the  long-lost 
Peter,  and  he  was  congratulated  upon  successfully  running 
the  gauntlet  of  two  fires. 

44  Talking  of  fires,”  said  Peter,  44  I reckon  I can  tell  you 
some  news  that’ll  keep  you  from  freezing  this  winter. 
The  Indians  have  concluded  to  burn  every  mother’s  son  of 
you ! I saw  ’em  roast  a poor  fellow  the  other  day ! I 
guess  I’ll  never  have  a pleasant  dream  again.” 

44  Was  it  a drame  ?”  asked  Paddy. 

.“A  dream!  You’ll  see  soon.  They  know  you.  They 
say  they’ll  make  splinters  of  the  Irishman  to  kindle  the 
others  with.” 

44  Och,  murther ! and  will  they  split  me  up  before  they 
kill  me,  and  burn  me  before  -I’m  dead?  Och,  Paddy, 
Paddy ! why  did  ye  lave  the  cabbages  of  yer  own  native- 
born  counthry !” 

44  That’s  a ^sensible  remark,”  said  Peter:  44  and  if  I ever 
set  my  toes  in  Harford  streets  once  more,  old  Trumbull 
may  hang  me  for  a Tory  before  I go  fighting  the  savages 
again.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


245 


“ Every  one  to  his  post!”  cried  Charles.  “ They  are 
coming  from  all  directions!” 

“ Reserve  your  fire  !”  shouted  Boone;  “and  when  they're 
within  twenty  paces  let  each  man  aim  at  the  one  opposite 
him.  After  firing,  out  with  your  tomahawks  and  down 
with  your  rifles !” 

The  assailants  were  divided  in  four  parties,  approach- 
ing rapidly  from  the  different  points  of  the  compass.  They 
were  in  number  fourfold  the  strength  of  the  garrison. 
But  there  would  have  been  a very  material  diminution  of 
their  force  if  Boone’s  directions  had  been  followed. 

Unfortunately,  Paddy’s  agitation  was  so  great  that  his 
gun  went  off  a moment  too  soon.  Many  others,  supposing 
this  a signal,  followed  his  example,  but  not  before  the  as- 
sailants, as  was  doubtless  concerted,  had  prostrated  them- 
selves, and  thus  escaped  the  fatal  effects  of  the  discharge. 

6 Be  jabers,  we’ve  kilt  ivery  blackguard  of  ’em!”1  cried 
Paddy,  in  exultation.  “Be  me  sowl,  I was  mistaken!”  he 
added,  the  next  moment,  upon  seeing  them  rise  again ; 
“ they  were  only  stunned.” 

The  few  who  reserved  their  fire  now  selected  their  vic- 
tims, and  their  fatal  aim  produced  an  astonishing  effect  on 
the  savages,  who  vainly  supposed  all  the  rifles  were  dis- 
charged over  their  prostrate  forms. 

“We’ve  stopped  them  ! Now  load  and  fire  as  fast  as  you 
can!”  cried  Boone,  seeing  the  enemy  reeling  and  hesitating, 
instead  of  attempting  to  surmount  the  picketing.  This 
order  was  obeyed  with  alacrity  and  complete  success  on  the 
sides  where  Boone  and  Charles  and  Kenton  commanded.  But 
on  the  other,  where  Girty  led,  the  assaulting  party  succeeded 
in  pulling  down  several  of  the  palisades  between  the  cabins. 

They  rushed  in,  tomahawk  in  hand,  and  were  met  by 
McSwine  and  his  Scots  in  the  centre  of  the  area.  A des- 
perate conflict  ensued,  amid  yells  and  shouts,  the  pran- 
cing of  horses  and  the  braying  of  the  jackass.  But  the 
struggle  was  terminated  by  the  fall  of  Girty  himself,  at 
whose  side  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones  had  taken  a deliberate  aim 
with  his  pistol.  The  Indians  and  the  few  British  under  the 
renegade’s  immediate  command  bore  him  out  and  retreated 
under  cover  of  the  river-bank.  Several  of  the  party,  how- 
ever, had  been  left  within  the  enclosure,  and  these  were 
immediately  tomahawked  and  scalped. 


246 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES 


It  was  just  at  this  distracting  moment,  when  the  battle 
was  won  and  the  enemy  were  hying  in  all  directions,  that 
the  ears  of  Charles  were  assailed  by  a familiar  voice,  and, 
looking  in  the  direction  whence  it  proceeded,  he  beheld, 
issuing  from  the  cane  on  the  west  of  the  fort,  the  form  of 
his  forest  sister. 

She  came,  with  arms  uplifted,  crying,  46  Kill  me ! kill 
me  ! kill  me  !” 

44 Don’t  fire,  for  your  lives!”  shouted  Charles,  seeing 
several  of  the  men  aiming  at  the  advancing  girl. 

He  threw  open  the  gate  and  rushed  forth  to  meet  her,  at 
the  same  time  speaking  in  a loud  voice,  and  in  the  Indian 
language,  to  the  enemy,  beseeching  them  to  spare  the  sister 
of  Thayendanegea. 

Brown  Thrush  never  lowered  her  uplifted  hands,  nor 
ceased  to  cry  44  Kill  me !”  until  she  fell  upon  the  breast  of 
Charles,  who,  turning,  bore  her  through  the  gate  into  the 
fort,  where  they  were  instantly  surrounded  by  eager  spec- 
tators. 

44  Oh  !”  cried  Julia,  pale  and  tearful,  44  see  the  blood! 
Who  could  have  done  the  cruel  deed?” 

The  poor  Indian  girl  was  weltering  in  her  gore,  inani- 
mate, but  with  her  arms  still  clasped  round  the  neck  of 
Charles. 

44 Merciful  heaven!”  gasped  Charles,  on  beholding  the 
wound  in  the  breast  of  the  poor  girl,  44  who  could  have  done 
this  ? Some  miscreant  has  killed  her  in  my  arms  !” 

Every  one  in  the  fort  denied  having  perpetrated  the  act, 
and,  as  her  history  was  known  to  most  of  the  garrison,  pity 
and  indignation  were  felt  and  expressed  by  all. 

44  It  was  one  of  Queen  Esther’s  instruments  ! It  must 
have  been !”  said  Charles,  weeping  over  his  forest  sister. 

44  Bring  her  into  the  cabin,”  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones, 
44  and  she  may  recover.  She  is  not  dead.  I feel  her  heait 
beating.” 

44  See ! she  revives!”  said  Julia.  44 Poor  sister!”  she 
continued;  44 1 will  be  her  nurse.” 

Charles  followed  the  preacher  with  his  burden,  the  arms 
of  the  wounded  girl  still  clinging  to  his  neck ; and,  when 
gently  deposited  on  a couch,  her  consciousness  returned, 
and,  upon  recognising  the  features  of  the  one  she  loved,  a 
sweet  smile  spread  over  her  face. 


DEATH  OF  THE  BROWN  THRUSH.— P.  *247. 


: tlPRARY 

/ ' ( V 

-i  :!NOIS 


SECOND  SERIES. 


247 


“My  poor  sister, ” said  Charles,  in  broken  accents,  “why 
did  you  expose  your  tender  breast  to  the  aim  of  the  Seneca 
dogs?” 

“ The  Brown  Thrush  had  sung  her  last  song,”  said  she, 
in  her  own  musical  language,  which  none  but  Charles  and 
Mr.  Jones  could  fully  understand.  “ She  longed  to  go  to 
the  happy  land  where  the  bright  streams  are  dancing — 
where  those  who  love  can  never  be  separated — and  where 
the  warm  sunshine  is  never  intercepted  by  clouds.  Your 
wild-wood  sister  wTas  afraid  to  take  her  own  life,  since  the 
Great  Spirit  had  forbidden  it ; but  she  thought  he  would 
not  be  angry  if  she  had  another  to  kill  her.  I was  so  un- 
happy ! Oh,  my  brother,  when  will  you  come  ? And  must 
I travel  to  the  far  land  alone  ? How  long  shall  I wait  for 
thee  ?” 

Charles  was  incapable  of  utterance,  but  wept  like  a child 
over  his  dying  sister.  Mr.  Jones,  perceiving  the  wound 
was  mortal,  and  that  the  poor  girl’s  life  was  rapidly  ebbing 
away,  strove  to  cheer  her  with  such  assurances  as  his  mis- 
sion authorized  him  to  pronounce. 

“Do  not  weep  for  me!”  said  she,  seeing  the  tears  of 
Charles  and  Julia.  “We  shall  meet  again  where  tears 
car  not  come.  Then  the  White  Eagle  shall  love  the  Brown 
Thrush  as  dearly  as  the  Antelope.  I am  happy  now.  My 
sight  is  growing  dim,  like  the  mist  of  the  morning  ; but  thou 
art  near.  My  sister,  give  me  your  wTarm  hand ; let  me 
plice  it  on  my  cold  breast.  My  brother,  be  happy;  but 
don’t  forget  her  who  charmed  thee  in  the  wild  woods  with 
her  song.  When  we  meet  again  in  the  spirit-land,  open 
your  arms  as  you  did  to-day,  and  clasp  your  sister  to  your 
heart.  When  you  did  so  I was  happy,  though  the  wound 
came  at  the  same  moment.  I will  be  more  happy  there, 
where  no  wounds  can  reach  me.  Dig  a deep  grave  by  the 
spring,  and  breathe  a prayer  over  thy  faded  sister ! Fare- 
well!” 

Her  form  sank  back,  and  her  spirit  fled  to  its  eternal 
abode.  A profound  silence  ensued,  and  every  head  was 
bowed  in  sorrow.  The  preacher  sank  upon  his  knees,  and, 
although  his  lips  moved  in  prayer,  no  one  heard  his  words 
but  the  Invisible  Being  who  alone  possessed  the  ability  to 
grant  his  requests. 

A flag  was  sent  in  the  next  day  by  Duquesne  with  a pro- 


24S 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


position  for  a suspension  of  hostilities  until  the  dead  could 
be  buried  ; and,  as  his  party  had  suffered  the  most  severely, 
and  he  would  derive  the  greatest  benefit  from  a strict  fulfil- 
ment of  the  terms,  the  request  was  granted.  But  the  bearer 
of  the  flag  was,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  garrison,  the 
famous  Simon  Girty  himself,  whom  they  believed  to  be  dead, 
and  most  of  them  had  rejoiced  in  his  supposed  destruction. 
It  appeared  that  a piece  of  leather  in  his  pocket  had  saved 
his  life.  The  ball  of  the  pistol,  however,  had  stunned  him 
and  brought  him  to  the  ground. 

The  body  of  the  Indian  girl,  after  being  shown  to  the 
chiefs  of  the  enemy  at  their  special  request,  that  they 
might  know  she  had  not  been  scalped,  was  enclosed  in  a 
bark  coffin  and  deposited  in  a deep  grave  under  the  weep- 
ing-willow near  the  .spring,  as  she  had  requested. 

After  lingering  a few  days  in  the  hope  of  obtaining 
horses,  but  which  was  blasted  by  the  vigilance  of  Kenton, 
the  Indians  departed  for  their  homes  on  the  Scioto  and 
the  Little  Miami. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WINTER  AT  BOONE’S  STATION  IN  KENTUCKY — CHARLES 
AND  JULIA  RETURN  TO  NEW  JERSEY. 

When  the  savages  withdrew  from  the  vicinity  of  Boones- 
borough,  it  was  observed  by  Paddy  and  Van  Wiggens  in 
their  rambles  that  one  of  their  rude'  bark  shelters  had  not 
only  been  left  standing,  but  several  pieces  of  buffalo-meat 
remained  on  the  roof,  and  smoke  seemed  to  be  still  ascend- 
ing from  its  centre.  They  drew  near  to  gratify  a very 
natural  curiosity.  Watch,  the  little  mongrel  cur,  with  his 
stump  of  a tail  rigidly  erect,  preceded  them ; for  dogs  are 
quite  as  curious  as  men  and  women. 

“ Vat’s  dat?”  cried  Van  Wiggens,  seeing  the  dog  re- 
treating whining,  and  his  tail  down. 

“Be  my  sowl,  that’s  more  than  I can  tell  ye,’  said 
Paddy,  “unless  ye  step  forrud  and  see  what  it  is.” 

“Go  see,  den,”  said  Van  Wiggens. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


249 


“ Who  ? I ? And  are  ye  afraid  to  do  it  yerself  ?” 
“Afraid?” 

“ Yes.  Are  ye  not  frightened  now,  because  yer  dog  is 
barking  at  a ground-hog,  or  polecat,  or  some  other  varmint, 
under  there  ? I’m  laughing  in  my  slave  at  ye  ! Afraid  of 
a skunk,  when  we  kill  ’em  ivery  week  under  the  cabins !” 

“ Vat’s  dat  you  mean  ? Dunder  ! Me  afraid  ? Der 
teiffel ! Noting  but  Mrs.  Wan  Viggens  can  scare  me!” 
and  he  strode  forward  toward  the  dark  shelter,  followed 
with  reluctance  by  Watch,  while  Paddy  remained  at  a re- 
spectful distance. 

No  sooner  did  the  Dutchman  enter  the  low  habitation 
than  his  ears  were  assailed  by  a tempest  of  words  which  he 
was  incapable  of  interpreting  ; and,  before  he  could  retreat, 
his  leg  was  seized  by  some  one  half-buried  in  the  leaves. 

“ Dunder  ! lev  go  my  leg  !”  he  shouted. 

The  dog  barked  furiously. 

Paddy  ran  away,  and  never  paused  until  he  plunged  into 
the  area  of  the  quadrangle,  shouting  “ Indians  ! Indians!” 
A crowd,  of  course,  soon  assembled,  and  Paddy  was  con- 
strained, with  some  difficulty,  to  pilot  the  men  back  to  the 
scene  of  the  discovery. 

Before  they  arrived  in  the  vicinity,  the  bark  of  Watch 
was  heard,  as  if  baying  some  huge  monster  which  he  durst 
not  approach.  The  next  sound  was  the  rattling  voice  of 
an  old  woman,  whom  Boone  pronounced  a scold,  and  a 
drunken  one  at  that.  Drawing  near,  they  behtld  poor  Van 
Wiggens  retreating  slowly  from  the  bark  hut,  dragging 
through  the  leaves  by  main  force  the  body  of  Diving  Duck, 
who  still  clung  to  his  leg  and  called  him  her  husband.  In 
vain  he  strove  to  make  Watch  seize  his  tormentor.  The 
dog  had  once  been  rudely  handled  by  her,  and  could  not 
be  induced  to  venture  within  her  reach. 

u I was  only  jesting  !”  said  Paddy.  “ I made  ye  belave 
I was  frightened  for  the  sake  of  the  joke.  Scared  at  a 
squaw!”  Such  were  the  replies  he  made  to  the  sneers  of 
the  men  who  had  come  forth  eager  for  “a  fight.” 

u Tam  it!  von’t  nopody  help  me?”  cried  Van  Wig- 
gens, who,  from  his  corpulence,  soon  became  exhausted,  and 
puffed  and  blowed  prodigiously. 

The  old  squaw,  with  dishevelled  hair  and  bloated  cheeks, 
turned  her  keen  eyes  upon  the  men  and  laughed.  Even  a 


250 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


dog  can  tell  a man’s  humour  by  looking  him  in  the  eye  ; and 
Diving  Duck  perceived  at  once  that  she  afforded  amusement 
for  the  spectators,  and  was  in  no  danger  of  being  killed. 

After  the  merriment  had  been  sufficiently  prolonged. 
Boone  commanded  the  old  squaw  to  release  her  lord;  and 
the  moment  she  did  so  Van  Wiggens  and  his  dog  took 
to  their  heels  and  fled  to  the  fort.  The  old  woman  ran 
about  shaking  hands  with  the  men,  fearless  of  injury,  until 
she  fixed  her  eyes  on  Paddy,  whom  she  called  her  u pap- 
poose.”  She  tore  a switch  from  a pendent  bough,  and 
seemed  determined  to  administer  chastisement  for  some 
previous  offence,  or  to  vindicate  her  authority,  when  Paddy, 
following  the  example  of  Van  Wiggens,  fled  after  him  to- 
ward the  fort.  The  old  hag  pursued ; and  when  she  ap- 
proached the  gate  Van  Wiggens  would  have  fired  upon 
her  had  he  not  been  prevented  by  Charles.  He  then  hid 
himself  in  one  of  the  cabins,  and  the  old  squaw  was  per- 
mitted to  rove  about  the  huts  without  molestation. 

Several  weeks  after  the  evacuation  of  Kentucky  by  the 
Indians,  Boone,  at  the  head  of  a party  of  twenty  men,  set 
out  for  the  Licks  to  make  salt, — that  indispensable  article 
having  become  exhausted  in  the  settlements.  In  this  expe- 
dition he  was  accompanied  by  his  brother,  and  by  all  the 
men  from  the  Jenny  Jump  settlement  excepting  Charles 
and  Paddy.  Van  Wiggens  led  the  van,  gladly  leaving 
Didapper  behind. 

During  the  absence  of  this  detachment  the  fort  was  too 
much  weakened  to  be  abandoned  by  Charles  ; and  his  eager- 
ness to  return  to  the  Delaware  river  had  to  be  repressed. 
And  Julia,  pleading  her  promise  to  her  dying  father  that 
she  would  not,  during  her  minority,  marry  without  the  con- 
sent of  her  guardian,  resisted  the  importunity  of  her  lover 
to  have  their  nuptials  celebrated  in  the  fort.  She  admired 
Mr.  Jones  very  much,  and  could  not  entertain  a doubt  of 
his  piety,  or  even  question  what  seemed  to  be  his  divine 
mission ; but,  inasmuch  as  she  had  been  baptized  in  the 
Church  of  England,  by  Dr.  Odell,  of  Burlington,  she  had 
an  irresistible  desire  to  take  the  marriage-vow  with  the 
wedding-ring  at  St.  Mary’s  holy  altar  ; and  in  vain  did  Mr. 
Jones  attempt  to  combat  her  prejudices,  as  he  termed  them. 
In  vain  did  he  propose  to  read  the  ceremony  from  her  own 
prayer-book,  and  to  manufacture,  himself,  aided  by  Van 


SECOND  SERIES. 


251 


YViggens,  (who  was  a blacksmith,)  a ring  from  one  of 
Charles's  watch-seals.  She  begged  him  to  desist,  and  an 
nounced  that  her  decision  was  irreversible. 

About  this  time,  during  one  of  the  dark  nights  of  winter, 
when  the  inmates  of  the  garrison  were  assembled  round 
the  cheerful  blaze  on  the  broad  hearth  of  the  principal 
cabin, — the  old  women  spinning  flax  and  the  young  ones 
knitting  or  sewing,  listening  to  narratives  of  adventures  in 
the  wild  woods, — Charles  was  startled  by  hearing  a peb- 
ble fall  upon  the  roof  and  roll  down  to  the  ground.  Used 
to  such  signals,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  was  approaching 
the  door,  when  the  gentle  hand  of  Julia  arrested  him.  Pale, 
and  trembling  very  much,  she  begged  him  to  desist. 

“It  is  only  the  hail,’'  said  Mrs.  Calloway,  silencing  the 
buzz  of  her  wheel. 

“ The  wind  has  been  howling  ever  since  dark,”  said  Sue, 
“ and  it  may  be  the  large  hail  that  sometimes  falls  at  the 
beginning  of  a storm. 

“ I don’t  think  any  Indians  could  have  passed  my  father 
at  the  Blue  Licks,”  said  Mary. 

“ Not  unless  they  captured  him  first,”  said  Julia,  “ which 
may  have  been  the  case  !” 

“And  that’s  not  onlikely,”  said  Paddy,  with  staring 
eyes  and  fallen  chin. 

“ Could  you  not  get  into  the  potato-hole,  under  the  floor, 
and  creep  near  the  door  ?”  asked  Mrs.  Calloway. 

“Me?”  said  Paddy,  in  astonishment.  “And  sure  I’d 
be  smothered  in  a minute ! I niver  could  draw  me  breath  ! 
— I mane,  I niver  could  saa  ony  thing  in  the  dark.” 

’ “It  is  not  an  Indian,”  said  Mr.  Jones. 

“No,”  said  Charles;  “if  they  had  captured  Boone  and 
his  party  they  would  have  gone  back  to  celebrate  the  event” 
(which  was  really  the  case)  “ before  venturing  farther  into 
the  country.” 

“But  give  me  light,  Mrs.  Calloway,”  said  Paddy,  “and 
I don’t  fear  the  divil !”  and  he  had  made  two  strides  to- 
ward the  door  when  another  pebble  rattled  down  from  the 
roof.  He  paused  abruptly.  “ Och,  it’s  only  the  hail!” 
said  he,  and  resumed  his  seat.  The  next  instant,  however, 
hearing  some  one  whistle,  he  sprang  up  again,  very  pale 
and  trembling ; but  his  trepidation  was  not  observed.  Both 
Charles  and  Julia  recognised  the  signal,  and,  uttering  to- 


252 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


gcther  a joyous  exclamation,  the  door  was  thrown  open, 
.and  the  imperturbable  Skippie  stood  in  their  midst. 

The  faithful  messenger  was  overwhelmed  with  hearty 
greetings,  which  he  bore  in  silence,  but  with  a proud  ex- 
pression of  countenance.  He  brought,  besides  the  packet 
of  letters,  (unsoiled,  notwithstanding  Hie  inclemency  of  the 
season,  and  the  long  journey,)  another  accession  to  Julia’s 
wardrobe.  To  the  profusion  of  thanks  showered  upon  him 
he  made  no  reply,  and,  merely  uttering  the  word  “ Virginia,” 
the  meaning  of  which  was  not  comprehended,  and  pointing 
to  the  letters,  as  if  to  indicate  that  they  would  speak  more 
explicitly,  he  withdrew  to  the  kitchen,  or  rather  the  cabin 
where  the  savory  viands  were  usually  cooked. 

Charles’s  letter  was  from  his  father,  announcing  his  con- 
tinued good  health  and  the  determination  of  France  to 
make  common  cause  with  the  Colonies.  But  this  resolution 
had  not  yet  transpired,  and  was  still  one  of  the  secrets  of 
the  court  of  Versailles.  The  aspect  of  affairs,  nevertheless, 
at  that  moment,  wTas  sufficiently  gloomy.  Washington, 
with  a mere  handful  of  men,  was  hard  pressed,  and  retreat- 
ing before  Cornwallis;  and  a large  portion  of  the  people 
embraced  the  terms  offered  in  the  royal  proclamations,  re- 
turning to  their  allegiance.  The  Indians,  too,  led  by 
Brandt  and  instigated  by  Johnston  and  the  Butlers,  were 
desolating  the  country  on  the  northern  frontier.  Murphy, 
Charles’s  faithful  sergeant,  did  all  in  his  power  to  maintain 
the  organization  of  the  little  band  of  patriots ; but  many 
difficulties  were  thrown  in  his  way.  In  short,  Charles  was 
advised  to  return  the  first  opportunity.  Such  was  the 
purport  of  the  letter  he  received  from  his  father. 

Julia,  while  reading  her  epistle  from  Kate,  could  not  re- 
press her  joy  upon  learning  that  her  old  playmate  was  then 
residing  with  the  Moravians,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
her  guardian’s  house,  whither  she  had  flown  as  to  a secure 
place  of  refuge  during  the  perils  of  the  invasion  of  the 
western  portion  of  the  State,  then  in  possession  of  the 
enemy. 

“ He’s  well!  He’s  well  again!”  cried  Julia,  holding 
the  letter  triumphantly  aloft. 

“ He!”  said  Charles,  gravely.  “What  he  do  you 
mean  ?” 

“ Solo  ! Kate  says : — c When  your  monster  of  a friend, 


SECOND  SERIES. 


253 


from  Newfoundland,  first  beheld  me,  I could  with  difficulty 
elude  his  rather  familiar  attempts  to  place  a hand  (paw)  on 
each  of  my  shoulders.  Tears — whether  of  joy  or  grief,  how 
could  I tell  ? — trickled  down,  and  I could  not  prevent  him 
from  placing  his  velvet  tongue  against  my  hand.  How  is 
this,  Julia?  Has  the  sagacious  animal  heard  you  speak 
of  me,  remembered  your  words,  and  recognised  your  friend  ? 
Rely  upon  it,  Solo  has  my  love,  and  will  have  my  watchful 
care !’  There,  Mr.  Eagle  ! Kate  is  in  love  with  your 
rival  !” 

“ Read  on ! God  bless  Kate ! I shall  love  her  for 
loving  your  dog.” 

“ 1 believe  you  were  once  inclined  to  love  her  for  herself, 
before  she  ever  saw  the  dog.  But  I’ll  pardon  that.  Oh! 
here  is  something  very  sad  and  horrible  ! Read  it  for  me, 
Charles.” 

It  was  an  account  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Caldwell,  the 
wife  of  the  Presbyterian  minister.  She  had  been  shot  by 
a brutal  British  soldier,  through  the  window  of  her  cham- 
ber, when  in  the  act  of  prayer  in  the  midst  of  her  little 
children. 

uThis  act,”  said  Kate,  “when  known  by  the  British 
officers,  was  denounced,  but  they  had  no  time  to  seek  the 
perpetrator.  From  the  burning  town  they  came  to  our 
house.  Father  was  absent.  My  mother,  my  sisters,  and 
myself,  when  we  saw  the  British  in  the  yard,  retreated  into 
the  back  chamber.  The  front  door  was  soon  burst  open. 
Oh,  it  w7as  a horrible  night!  A violent  storm  raging  in 
the  sky  as  well  as  upon  the  earth.  The  lightning  flashed 
and  the  thunder  rolled  terrifically.  But  this  was  the  voice 
of  God,  and  the  providential  means  of  our  salvation.  It 
occurred  to  me  that  we  might  be  less  liable  to  outrage  by 
meeting  oui  foes  boldly  face  to  face.  They  were  already 
striking  their  muskets  rudely  against  the  door.  I stepped 
forward,  in  my  loose  white  wrapper,  for  we  had  retired  at 
an  early  hour,  and  threw  open  the  door.  At  that  instant  the 
hall  was  illuminated  by  a vivid  flash  of  lightning,  and  no 
doubt  my  face  was  as  pale  as  the  corpse  they  had  seen. 
The  soldiers,  horror-stricken,  fled  away,  declaring  they 
had  been  confronted  by  the  ghost  of  Mrs.  Caldwell,  murdered 
by  them  in  the  morning.  In  a moment  the  house  was  de- 
serted by  them.  Julia,  you  know  they  used  to  say  there 

22 


254 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES! 


was  a resemblance  between  Mrs.  Caldwell  and  myself. 
Who  could  have  supposed  it  would  produce  such  an 
effect  ?” 

This  portion  of  Kate’s  letter  caused  a profound  sensation, 
and  Mr.  Jones  ho  doubt  would  have  gladly  seized  the  op- 
portunity to  “ improve  the  occasion/’  had  his  eye  not  fallen 
on  his  own  name,  in  a familiar  hand,  on  one  of  the  letters 
brought  by  Skippie.  It  was  from  his  friend  Anthony 
Wayne,  demanding  his  presence  in  Jersey,  or,  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  “'wherever  the  enemy  may  drive  us,  for  we 
shall  never  get  out  of  our  difficulties  without  your  aid,  and 
I hope  the  cause  is  not  past  praying  for.” 

There  wTas  likewise  a letter  from  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens  to 
her  absent  husband,  but  none  present  felt  authorized  to 
open  it.  But  Kate,  in  her  diary,  mentioned  her  several 
times,  and  said  she  was  succeeding  very  well  with  her 
tavern. 

There  were  also  letters  from  Thomas  and  Richard 
Schooley.  The  former  intimated  a purpose  to  have  the 
lands  jointly  held  by  himself  and  Julia’s  father  surveyed 
and  divided,  as  he  had  no  idea  of  any  portion  of  his  estate 
being  involved  in  the  confiscation.  Charles  Cameron  had 
been  excepted  in  the  recent  royal  proclamation  offering 
mercy  and  protection. 

Richard  announced  his  intention  to  seek  the  hand  of 
Judith  Carlisle,  the  daughter  of  Abraham,  a staunch 
royalist.  And  he  concluded  with  a proposition  which 
startled  Julia.  “Thee  must  learn,”  said  he,  “that  this 
farm,  and  all  the  improvements  thereon,  appeareth,  upon 
an  accurate  survey,  and  the  specifications  in  the  deeds,  to 
fall  to  thy  lot.  But,  as  the  expenditures  thereon  were 
made  by  us,  we  do  not  doubt  that  thou  wilt  deal  justly. 
The  royal  cause  must  triumph  in  the  end,  and  it  is  greatly 
feared  all  thy  estates  will  be  forfeited.  Now,  as  I have 
still  a friendly  regard  for  thee,  I would  gladly  provide  for 
thy  maintenance.  I learn  that,  with  the  consent  of  thy 
guardian,  thou  mayest  execute  a legal  conveyance  of  thy 
lands ; and,  indeed,  if  thy  father’s  Bible,  found  in  one  of  the 
boxes,  would  be  taken  as  evidence,  it  appeareth  by  certain 
writings  therein  thou  art  older  than  we  supposed,  and  of 
an  age  to  act  without  the  concurrence  of  thy  guardian. 
Therefore,  if  zh.ee  will  name  a moderate  sum  in  ready 


SECOND  SERIES. 


255 


money,  as  an  apparent  consideration  for  the  lands,  and 
execute  a deed  conveying  them  to  me,  I will  pledge  myself, 
after  the  bloody  storm  hath  swept  past,  either  to  reconvey 
them  to  thee,  or  else  to  pay  thee  such  additional  sum  or 
sums  as  three  honest  men  may  adjudge.  And  if  thee  will 
not  agree  to  do  this  thee  will  be  a pauper  upon  the 
county.’' 

Julia’s  eyes  flashed  indignantly.  Throwing  the  letter  in 
the  fire,  she  said,  “ Henceforth  I am  a rebel !” 

“ Amen  !”  cried  Mr.  Jones.  66  I’ll  tell  Wayne,  and  he’ll 
tell  Washington  ! If  I’m  not  mistaken,  these  Schooleys  have 
more  reason  to  apprehend  a loss  than  yourself.  But  I must 
retire.  At  dawn  I shall  set  out  alone  for  head-quarters. 
Be  not  surprised,  and  do  not  attempt  to  interpose  any 
objections.  I shall  find  my  way  thither  in  safety.  You 
cannot  go  till  spring,  and  Skippie  will  remain  till  then. 
Let  us  unite  in  an  earnest  petition  to  the  great  Captain- 
General  of  the  universe.  If  God  be  on  our  side,  we  shall 
prevail.  Let  us  appeal  to  him  and  be  of  good  cheer.  He 
hurls  the  bolts  of  destruction,  and  the  rolling  thunders  are 
the  reverberations  of  his  voice.  Remember  who  said,  when 
the  tempest  raged  and  the  billows  were  lifted  up, ‘Fear 
not;  it  is  I.’  Yes,  my  brethren,  if  he  be  for  us  who  shall 
prevail  against  us  ? And  was  not  his  will  clearly  manifested 
in  the  lightning’s  flash  which  struck  terror  to  the  murderers 
of  Mrs.  Caldwell?” 

He  then  knelt  down  in  their  midst  and  prayed  fervently 
and  patriotically  for  about  an  hour. 

The  next  morning,  having  provided  himself  with  ammu- 
nition for  his  pistols,  and  taking  with  him  a supply  of  dried 
buffalo-meat  and  a canteen  of  rum,  the  eccentric  preacher 
set  out  alone  on  his  journey,  never  for  a moment  doubting 
his  ultimate  arrival  at  the  head-quarters  of  the  American 
army. 

Diving  Duck  became  a source  of  great  annoyance  to 
Paddy,  who  regretted  that  he  had  not  gone  with  the  rest  to 
the  Licks.  She  could  not  comprehend  why  her  adopted  son 
should  not  yield  obedience  to  her  commands  in  the  fort  as 
well  as  in  the  wigwam  on  the  Scioto  ; and  all  her  orders 
aimed  at  the  procurement  of  rum.  She  threatened,  she 
stormed,  she  begged,  in  vain.  Charles  had  forbidden  it. 

After  lingering  about  the  fort  a few  weeks,  she  announced 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


256 

her  purpose  of  returning  to  her  own  country,  and  demanded 
of  Charles  an  order  for  Paddy  to  accompany  her. 

“Do  you  wish  to  go  with  your  mother?”  asked  Charles, 
turning  to  Paddy. 

“ Me  mother,  is  it  ? Howly  mother  forbid  ! And  would 
ye  be  afther  sariously  calling  sich  a varmint  as  that  me 
mother,  Misther  Charles  ? Plase  don't  do  ony  sich  thing  ! 
Go  wid  ’er,  did  ye  say  ? I’d  rather  go  back  and  live  wid 
the  owld  sow  I kilt  in  the  wild  woods  !” 

“ Shall  I interpret  your  speech  to  her?”  asked  Charles. 

“No!  plase  don’t,  or  she’ll  be  afther  me  wid  the  frying- 
pan.  But  I’ll  tell  ye  what  I’ll  do,  and  if  ye  plase  ye  may 
turn  it  into  the  Indian  brogue.  I’ll  pack  her  up  some 
jerked  buffalo-bafe  and  start  her  off  on  Pater  Shaver’s 
jackass,  provided  she’ll  swear  on  the  Ilowly  Evangely 
niver  to  call  Patrick  Pence  her  son  agin !” 

“ Oh,  do !”  said  Julia.  “The  sound  of  that  animal’s 
voice  is  a terror  to  me  !” 

“And  no  wonder,  Misthress  Julia,  as  it  reminds  ye  of 
blood.  And  besides,  Misther  Charles,  only  consider  that 
Pater  is  anoder  o’  her  sons,  and  she  has  a lagal  right  to  the 
baste ; and  if  Pater  objicts  to  it  afther  the  baste  is  gone, 
I’ll  give  him  me  note  for  the  vally  of  the  crather.” 

“It  shall  be  done,”  said  Charles,  quite  anxious  to  get 
rid  of  the  animal.  And  the  old  squaw  was  delighted  with 
the  arrangement.  The  only  stipulation  she  added  was  a 
moderate  dram,  and  when  it  was  greedily  swallowed  she 
set  forth  on  the  ass. 

As  the  winter  passed  away,  the  joy  of  the  wanderers  at 
the  prospect  of  a speedy  return  to  the  Delaware  was  en- 
gloomed  by  the  reception  of  melancholy  tidings.  A son 
of  Mr.  Calloway,  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  who  had  ac- 
companied his  father  to  the  Licks,  came  in  one  day,  pale, 
haggard,  and  half  famished.  He  told  his  sister,  who  wept 
upon  his  neck,  that  their  father  and  the  entire  party  at  the 
Licks  had  been  surrounded  and  captured  by  an  army  of 
more  than  a hundred  warriors.  They  had,  however,  pledged 
themselves  to  Boone  that  the  lives  of  the  prisoners  should 
be  spared,  and  that  they  should  not  be  subjected  to  the 
humiliations  and  pains  of  the  gauntlet. 

The  Indians,  instead  of  assaulting  the  forts,  which  might 
have  been  carried  when  weakened  by  the  loss  of  their  best 


SECOND  SERIES. 


257 


men,  hurried  away  as  usual  to  celebrate  their  success.  And 
it  may  be  here  remarked  that  the  stipulations  agreed  to  by 
them  were  faithfully  fulfilled. 

The  capture  of  the  men  at  the  Licks  occurred  late  in 
January,  and  February  had  been  appointed  by  Charles  as 
the  time  of  setting  out.  It  was  now  feared  some  delay 
would  ensue,  as  he  could  not  in  honour  abandon  the  post 
assigned  him  when  the  opinion  prevailed  that  the  Indians 
would  return  after  depositing  their  prisoners  in  a place  of 
security ; and  the  distribution  of  the  emigrants  recently 
arrived  among  some  half  dozen  forts  might  not  suffice  for 
their  defence  if  a single  man  were  subtracted. 

This  apprehension  was  removed,  however,  by  the  unex- 
pected arrival  of  another  body  of  emigrants.  It  appeared 
that  the  glowing  accounts  of  the  salubrity  of  the  climate 
and  fertility  of  the  soil,  which  had  reached  the  East,  had 
stimulated  the  people  of  whole  neighbourhoods  to  emigrate  ; 
and  every  man  brought  a gun  with  him. 

His  design  being  thus  facilitated,  and  having  the  re- 
peated assurances  of  Julia  that  she  would  be  able  to  per- 
form the  journey,  (for  she  had  learned  many  lessons  in 
woodscraft  during  her  sojourn  in  the  wilderness,)  Charles 
made  preparations  for  an  immediate  departure.  Their 
horses  were  selected  and  caparisoned.  Buffalo-robes  for 
their  warmth  and  shelter  were  provided.  Food  was  packed, 
and  every  needful  arrangement  for  their  comfort  and 
safety  completed.  Then,  taking  leave  of  their  Western 
friends,  with  many  regrets  for  the  loss  of  the  comrades  left 
behind  them,  Charles,  Julia,  Skippie,  and  Paddy,  com- 
menced the  long  and  weary  journey  eastward. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

CHARLES  AND  JULIA  IN  BURLINGTON — THEY  MEET  THOMAS 
SCHOOLEY  — DR.  ODELL  — THE  HAUNTED  KNOCKER  — 
. GOVERNOR  FRANKLIN. 

The  incidents  of  minor  interest  during  the  journey  east- 
ward, the  scenery  in  the  mountains,  which  were  still  covered 
with  snow,  the  hunting  adventures  of  Paddy,  and  the 

22* 


258 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


hearty  though  rude  entertainment  afforded  by  the  few  scat- 
tering cabins  on  the  way,  I cannot  dwell  upon  in  this  place, 
although  the  diary  of  Julia  is  lying  before  me  in  unfaded 
calligraphy.  Events  of  greater  magnitude  must  occupy  the 
remaining  pages  of  my  narrative. 

Once  more  Julia  and  Charles  and  Paddy  were  in  the 
ancient  village  of  Burlington.  And  at  that  time  it  seemed 
to  have  greater  pretensions  to  rivalry  in  the  race  of  cities 
than  at  the  present  day.  The  idea  that.it  would  surpass 
Philadelphia  in  population  had  not,  perhaps,  been  entirely 
relinquished ; but  the  hope  has  faded  since. 

Julia,  as  soon  as  she  was  landed  from  the  schooner  at 
the  foot  of  Main  Street,  proceeded  without  delay,  followed 
by  Paddy  in'  the  capacity  of  footman,  to  the  residence  of 
her  guardian,  which  she  supposed  would  be  still  found  re- 
maining in  the  occupancy  of  the  old  housekeeper.  To  her 
surprise,  if  not  satisfaction,  the  first  person  she  met,  when 
passing  the  threshold,  was  Thomas  Schooley  himself. 
“Why,  Julia,”  exclaimed  he,  “do  I behold  thee  again?” 
“Plase  yer  honour,”  said  Paddy,  “I’ll  swear  to  her 
idintity,  as  they  made  me  do  wanst  before  the  coroner, 
when  Mary  McShane  made  ’way  wid  herself.” 

“ Swear  not  at  all,  Patrick,”  said  Thomas. 

“ Not  I,  sir ; but,  plase  yer  honour,  you  have  confissed  to 
me,  and  called  me  be  me  own  name.” 

“And  am  I so  much  changed,  Thomas?”  asked  Julia, 
smiling.  She  had  procured  new  apparel  in  Philadelphia, 
and  there  was  no  perceptible  alteration  in  her  appearance 
since  their  separation. 

“No — Julia — no ! <Thee  does  not  seem  to  have  changed 
in  aspect  or  inclination  to  follow  the  fashions  in  the  style 
and  colour  of  thy  outward  adornments.  But  I did  not 
expect  to  meet  thee  here.  Sit  thee  at  the  fire,  and  a 
breakfast  shall  be  prepared  for  thee.  How  didst  thou 
come,  and  from  whence  ?” 

“We  have  just  landed  from  the  schooner  we  embarked 
in  at  Wilmington.  But,  before  leaving  the  fort  in  the 
western  wilderness,  Skippie  had  delivered  thy  letters.” 

“ The  letters !”  said  Thomas,  with  unwonted  energy. 
“ Hast  thou  preserved  them  ?” 

“No,  Thomas,”  said  the  girl,  with  an  angry  look.  “1 
consigned  both  thine  and  Richard’s  letters ’! 


SECOND  SERIES. 


259 


“ To  whom?  Speak,  Julia!”  he  said,  hurriedly,  and  ii? 
uncontrollable  agitation. 

“ To  the  flames,”  she  continued. 

“ Flames!  I thank  thee!”  he  added,  breathing  freely. 
“ But  it  was  not  respectful ; yet  we  will  say  nothing  more 
about  it.” 

“ But  we  must  have  more  to  say  in  regard  to  those  let- 
ters,” said  Julia.  “ Why  didst  thou  write  me  in  that 
manner?  And  why  wert  thou  so  greatly  excited  just  now, 
Thomas  ?” 

“ Thee  shall  know  all,  Julia ; only  be  patient.  The 
times  are  perilous,  and  the  world  is  ever  changing.  The 
offer  was  made  by  Richard  in  good  faith.  But  since  then 
George  Washington  has  performed  miracles.  He  has  sur- 
prised and  beaten  the  King’s  forces  in  several  places,  and 
recovered  the  greater  portion  of  this  Colony.  But  the  next 
change  will  be  in  favour  of  the  royal  cause,  and  we  who 
are  opposed  to  strife  will  have  rest  and  peace.” 

Julia  listened  attentively,  without  interrupting  her  cir- 
cumspect guardian;  and,  when  he  had  finished  discussing 
the  affairs  of  the  Colony,  she  hastened  to  inform  herself  in 
relation  to  matters  in  the  Jenny  Jump  settlement;  but 
affairs  there  had  experienced  no  material  alteration  since 
her  last  advices  from  Kate.  She  was  gratified,  however,  to 
be  informed  that  her  guardian  was  only  on  a brief  visit 
in  Burlington,  and,  having  despatched  his  business,  would 
return  immediately. 

Charles  and  Skippie  sat  in  the  bar-room  of  the  principal 
hotel  at  the  junction  of  Main  and  Broad  Streets.  During 
the  last  year  the  establishment  had  experienced  several 
changes  of  proprietors.  When  the  British  were  over- 
running the  State,  and  Count  Donop  was  encamped  with 
four  hundred  Hessians  on  the  Wetherill  lot  in  view  of  the 
court-house,  and  the  jail  in  the  immediate  vicinity  was  filled 
with  rebel  prisoners,  the  premises  were  quietly  leased  to  a 
new  landlord,  who  had,  the  next  day,  the  sign  of  the  British 
’ion  swinging  before  the  door.  But  after  the  battles  of 
Trenton  and  Princeton,  the  discharges  of  artillery  on  both 
occasions  being  distinctly  audible  at  Burlington,  the  frown- 
ing lion  lost  his  eyes,  (the  work  of  some  boys  in  the  night,) 
and  was  made  to  succumb  to  the  impromptu  representation 
of  an  eagle,  and  another  transfer  of  the  premises  ensued. 


260 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


The  last  landlord,  whom  we  shall  designate  by  the  name 
of  John  Brown,  to  avoid  identification,  was  familiarly 
known  by  the  cognomen  of  Mr.  Allright , John  being  pecu- 
liarly adapted  to  all  parties  and  exigencies.  Mr.  Allright 
John  Brown  was  a bustling,  portly,  talkative,  accommodat- 
ing host. 

When  Charles  and  Skippie  entered  the  bar-room  a party 
of  Tories  had  just  been  drinking  at  the  bar,  and  as  they 
withdrew  from  the  house  they  paused  at  the  corner  and 
cast  curious  glances  back  at  the  strangers. 

“ Don’t  notice  ’em !”  said  the  host.  “ They  are  idle 
characters,”  he  added,  in  a low  tone,  “ who  do  nothing  but 
drink  and  pry  into  matters  which  don’t  concern  them.  I 
wonder  they  didn’t  question  you  as  to  which  side  you 
are  on.” 

“And,  pray,  to  which  side  do  they  belong?”  asked 
Charles. 

“ Oh,  they  are  for  the  King,”  said  the  host. 

“And  I am  for  the  Congress  !”  said  Charles. 

“ I thought  so  !”  exclaimed  Brown,  smiling,  and  enthu- 
siastically shaking  the  hand  of  his  young  guest.  UI  am 
all  right,”  said  he,  with  a significant  wink.  “But,  my 
young  friend,  be  cautious  how  you  express  yourself  before 
strangers.  One-half  of  ’em  are  rank  Tories,  and  they 
swear  every  rebel  here  shall  swing  on  Gallows  Hill.  By 
walking  out  into  the  middle  of  the  street  you  can  see  the 
hill,  and  the  scaffolding  erected  last  Christmas  eve.  But 
that  night  Washington  crossed  the  Delaware  and  played 
the  d — 1 with  their  calculations.  Walk  into  the  next  room. 
I smell  the  ham  and  eggs.  And  take  my  advice  and  hold 
your  tongue  when  curious  ears  are  about.” 

Charles  and  Skippie  passed  through  the  door  to  which 
the  landlord  pointed,  and  sat  down  to  the  savoury  repast. 
And  while  they  were  appeasing  their  appetites,  the  door 
communicating  with  the  bar-room  being  left  ajar,  they 
heard  the  following  conversation  between  the  host  and  a 
new  visitor : — 

“Thee  must  still  see  after  my  house,  John,”  said  the 
visitor,  “and  supply  the  servant  with  food.” 

“Certainly,  friend  Thomas,”  said  the  host;  “you  may 
depend  on  me.  You  have  become  my  surety  for  the  pay- 
ment of  the  rent.  As  I was  saying  last  night  when  Gene* 


SECOND  SERIES. 


261 


ral  Cadwallader  arrived  and  interrupted  us,  the  ‘ Sons  of 
Liberty’  were  once  going  to  tear  down  your  mansion,  but  I 
prevented  it  by  saying;  you  were  as  good  a Whig  as  old 
Flint-face  himself.” 

“ Thee  should  not  have  said  that,  John.  We  are  not 
permitted  to  lie.  If  they  had  torn  down  my  house  there 
would  have  been  a reimbursement  out  of  the  forfeiture  of 
their  own  estates.” 

“ But  suppose  the  rebellion  should  never  be  put  down, 
friend  Thomas  : what  then  ?” 

“ No  matter ; I tell  thee  I would  not  lie  to  save  my 
house.” 

“ I know  thee  wouldn’t,  friend  Thomas ; and  thee  didn’t. 
Your  conscience  had  nothing  to  do  with  it ; I lied  for  you. 
I don’t  mind  it.” 

“Thee  must  not  do  such  things,  John!  I tell  thee  it 
will  not  answer.  If  thee  don’t  mind  lying,  how  am  I to 
judge  when  thou  speakest  the  truth  ? Thee  says  thy  busi- 
ness is  profitable.  How  am  I to  know  it  ? Thee  declares 
I run  no  risk  in  being  thy  surety  for  the  rent ; perhaps  I 
shall  have  it  to  pay  for  thee  ! Besides,”  contined  he,  will- 
ing to  change  the  subject,  “I  hear  that  thee  professed  great 
attachment  to  those  officers  of  the  rebel  army  who  put  up 
with  thee  when  passing.” 

“ Ha  ! ha  ! ha  ! Of  course  I did  ! Would  you  not  have 
me  be  agreeable  to  my  guests  ? And  you’ll  hear  the  same 
thing  of  Lord  Cornwallis  and  General  Howe,  when  they 
come,  /’in  all  right ! You  needn’t  fear.” 

Just  as  he  uttered  these  words,  Charles,  who  had  finished 
eating,  returned  to  the  bar-room. 

“Hem!  I — just  step  into  that  room!”  said  the  host  to 
his  young  guest,  pointing  to  another  door.  “ There  is  a 
good  hickory  fire  in  it.  Step  in !” 

“I  have  seen  Julia,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  advancing  and 
offering  his  hand,  which  Charles  did  not  refuse,  “and  learned 
thou  hadst  returned.  Thee  looks  well ; and  I am  glad  to 
see  thee  dressed  after  the  habit  of  civilized  men,  albeit  I 
do  not  approve  the  colour  and  fashion  of  thy  garments.” 

“Hem!  That’s  strange!”  said  Brown,  aside.  “Glad, 
and  don’t  approve  ! And  they  know  each  other.  I’m  think- 
ing friend  Thomas  knows  more  about  lying  than  he  pre- 
tends to.” 


262 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ My  garments  suit  myself,”  said  Charles,  “ as  thine  do 
thee,  friend  Thomas.  I do  not  object  to  thine.” 

“We  will  not  quarrel  about  our  clothes,”  said  Mr. 
Schooley,  smiling  faintly.  “ I am  a man  of  peace,  as  I 
would  have  all  men  to  be ; and  I learn  it  is  thy  intention 
to  return  to  the  upper  settlement.  I am  glad  of  it.  I do 
not  think  thee  will  permit  thy  sergeant  to  annoy  us  any 
more  by  exacting  money  from  Richard.” 

“ Murphy  must  collect  the  fines  prescribed  by  law,”  said 
Charles. 

“ Law  ! Well,  thee  may  live  to  know  what  law  is  ! But 
no  more.  We  must  not  quarrel.  To-morrow  we  will 
journey  together.  Farewell,  till  we  meet  again.”  Thomas 
withdrew,  and  hastened  to  collect  the  interest  on  various 
sums  loaned  to  the  thrifty  members  of  the  Quaker  society 
composing  a large  proportion  of  the  population  of  Bur- 
lington. 

“ Gad  !”  exclaimed  Brown,  approaching  Charles,  “ you 
know  him  ? I’m  all  right ! Schooley’s  an  old  rascal, — a 
rank  Tory ! And  he’s  going  to  cheat  one  of  the  prettiest 
girls  in  America  out  of  her  fortun’.  He’s  as  rich  as  Crashes 
now,  but  he  wants  more.  It’s  a pity  some  handsome  young 
fellow  like  yourself  don’t  marry  the  poor  girl,  and  save  her 
fortun’.  They  say  he  had  her  taken  off  by  the  Indians,  but 
they  wouldn’t  kill  her.” 

“That  was  a lie,”  said  Charles.  “I  know  her,  and  I 
know  the  tale  is  without  foundation.” 

“ I’m  glad  to  hear  it.  There  are  always  a great  many 
lies  in  circulation.  I hate  a liar  as  I do  a Tory.  I’m  all 
right ! And  I’m  glad  friend  Schooley  isn’t  so  bad  as  re- 
presented. But  he’s  as  rich  as  Crashes,  and  you  know  such 
men  always  have  enemies.” 

“Of  course  they  do,”  said  Charles.  “But  can  you  tell 
me  what  has  become  of  Governor  Franklin  ?” 

“The  governor?  Certainly  ! He’s  in  New  York.  The 
British  exchanged  a general  for  him.  He’s  at  the  bottom, 
or  rather  at  the  head,  of  all  the  Tories  in  Jersey.  He  knows 
who’s  who  in  these  times,  and  he  knows  I'm.  all  right ! 
Sometimes  he  is  at  Staten  Island,  and  sometimes  at  Amboy; 
and  they  do  whisper  he  has  even  been  here,  in  disguise,” 
continued  Brown,  in  a low  voice,  knowing  that  Franklin 
was,  at  that  moment,  in  his  house ! 


SECOND  SERIES. 


263 


“ Who  occupies  his  mansion  on  the  bank  ?” 

“ None  but  one  of  the  old  women  of  the  family.  The 
celebrated  doctor  who,  you  know,  is  the  governor’s  father, 
sent  the  woman  up  to  see  after  his  furniture  and  books,  and 
the  people  haven’t  disturbed  the  place  at  all,  on  the  doctor’s 
account.  But  it’s  haunted!” 

“ Haunted  ?” 

“ Bless  you,  yes ! I thought  everybody  knew  that. 
Why,  the  old  sycamore,  belonging  to  the  witches,  is  just 
before  the  door.  They  dance  and  sing  and  knock  every 
night.  It  is  said  they  have  bought  young  Ben  Sheppard 
from  his  father.” 

“ And  do  the  people  believe  such  things  ?” 

“ Of  course  ! And  it’s  a good  thing  for  the  property.” 
“I  suppose  they  are  afraid  to  enter  the  mansion.” 

“ They  are,  by  gum  !” 

“ Friend  Charles,”  said  Thomas  Schooley,  re-entering, 
his  countenance  betraying  a mental  struggle,  66 1 have  re- 
turned to  have  g sober  talk  with  thee.  Come  into  the  next 
room.  Now,  my  friend,”  resumed  he,  when  they  were 
seated  in  the  snug  chamber,  since  converted  into  a parlour, 
“ why  should  we  not  explain  ourselves  and  have  a clear 
understanding  of  each  other’s  purposes  ?” 

“I  do  not  know  by  what  authority  you  may  demand 

“ Tut ! Pr’ythee,  Charles,  listen  patiently  to  me.  It  may 
be  well  for  thee  and  for  us  both.  An  accommodation 

may  be  effected,  a compromise ” 

“ No,  sir  ! I love  Julia,  and  you  are  her  guardian. 
You  can  withhold  your  consent  to  our  nuptials  until  she 
arrives  at  a certain  age,  which,  if  the  old  Bible  is  to  be 
believed ” 

“ Thee  hast  seen  Richard’s  letter!  Well,  the  figures 
are  uncertain.  Whether  the  date  is  1755,  or  1758,  it 
would  be  hard  to  decide.” 

“No  matter.  I have  no  right  to  investigate  the  subject. 
You  can  withhold  your  sanction,  and  we  can  wait,  till  your 
authority  ceases.  That  is  all.  I will  not  compromise  my 
own  or  Julia’s  character  by  any  sort  of  agreement  or  bar- 
gain  ” 

“ Thee  misunderstands  me,  and  will  not  listen.  Will 
thee  answer  one  thing?” 

“ I don’t  know.” 


264 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ I will  ask  the  question,  and  thee  can  answer  or  not  as 
thee  pleases.  Dost  thou  intend  to  wed  my  ward  clandes- 
tinely, or  openly  against  my  wishes?” 

“ I will  answer  that,  because  it  is  not  impertinent.  You 

are  her  legal  guardian ” 

“I  am  glad  thee  acknowledges  so  much.” 

“ And  I am  her  ardent  adorer.” 

“ Thee  speaks  as  if  she  were  a divinity !” 

“No  matter.  You  do  not  comprehend  such  things.  I 
intend,  friend  Thomas,  to  see  Dr.  Odell,  and  if  he  will 
marry  us — Julia  consenting — we  will  return  man  and  wife 
to  the  Jenny  Jump,” 

“ Indeed  ! It  is  boldly  spoken  !” 

“Yes,  and ” 

“ Thee  is  disposed  to  swear.  I will  leave  thee.” 

“It  is  an  inclination  I will  repress: — a habit  in  civilized 
society,  and  particularly  among  the  loyalists.  I did  not 
contract  it  among  the  Indians.  They  never  swear.  But, 
Thomas,  I am  quite  sure — at  Jeast  very  fearful — that 
Julia  will  not  comply  with  my  request  without  your  con- 
currence.” 

“ I thank  thee  for  thy  frankness.  Adieu,  till  we  meet 
again  at ” 

“But,  Thomas,  why  be  in  such  haste?  A word  from 
thee  will  be  sufficient  to  remove  the  obstacle,  and  then 
Julia  will  consent.  I have  been  candid.” 

“ Thee  has,  and  I will  be  so  too.  Thee  shall  not  wed 
my  ward  with  my  consent !” 

“Very  well ! I shall  not  beg  you  to  relent,  nor  attempt 
to  entrap  you  into  a compliance.  But  you  may  rely  upon 
it  that  Julia  will  never  marry  your  industrious  son.  So, 
if  it  be  your  expectation  to  obtain  her  fortune  in  that  way, 
you  will  be  disappointed.” 

“ Thee  may  have  learned,  since  our  letters  to  our  ward 
seem  to  have  been  subjected  to  thy  perusal — albeit  she  said 
they  were  burned ” 

“ She  said  truly.  She  threw  them  contemptuously,  as 
they  deserved,  into  the  fire.” 

“ I am  glad  of  the  action,  and  care  nothing  for  the  con 
tempt.  Thee  has  no  doubt  heard  of  the  purpose  of  Richard 
to  marry  Judith  Carlisle.  Thee  has  not  heard  of  the  mis- 
understanding since  then — but  no  matter  ! Charles,  thee 


SECOND  SERIES. 


265 


thinks  me  a worshipper  of  mammon,  an  idolater  of  gold, 
without  honour  or  religion.  Thee  does  not  know  me.  For- 
tune is  desirable,  and  it  is  not  sinful  to  seek  it  honestly. 
It  is  not  wrong  to  marry  a wife  with  riches.  But  I have 
a duty  to  perform.  I made  my  friend,  Julia’s  father,  a 
pledge  which  I must  fulfil.  Her  fortune  shall  not  be  im- 
perilled while  she  continues  under  my  control.  That  is  the 
promise  I made.  If  I were  to  consent  to  her  marriage  with 
thee,  every  thing  would  be  lost  when  order  is  restored  and 
the  king’s  authority  re-established.” 

“ Oh,  yes  ! — when  the  devil  reigns,  justice  and  virtue — 
but  no  matter ! It  will  be  seen  who  are  the  losers.  You 
think  the  advices  by  the  secret  messengers  from  New  York 
are  cheering.  So  be  it.  I have  advices  too.  Let  the  game 
be  played.  I win  if  you  lose.” 

“ Thee  talks  like  a gamester.  Farewell !”  And  Thomas 
withdrew. 

Charles  strolled  out  into  the  street,  and,  passing  the 
Friends’  burying-ground,  where  so  many  had  been  laid 
without  monument  or  inscription,  approached  the  Episcopal 
church,  (St.  Mary’s.) 

The  door  was  partly  open,  and  he  thought  he  heard  the 
last  notes  of  sacred  music  dying  on  the  air.  He  paused 
and  looked  in.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Odell  stood  before  the  altar, 
with  cup  and  plate  before  him,  while  about  a dozen  females 
knelt  around  the  chancel.  On  that  unusual  day,  and  at 
that  singular  hour,  he  wTas  administering  the  sacrament  to 
a small  remnant  of  his  flock.  There  was  not  a man  among 
them.  We  trust  the  same  disparity  of  sex  may  not  exist 
in  heaven ! 

Charles,  yielding  to  the  solemn  impulse  of  the  moment, 
strode  forward  and  knelt  among  them.  He,  too,  although 
so  long  a wanderer,  belonged  to  the  same  flock.  Tears 
were  on  the  cheeks  of  the  pious  minister,  and  several  of  the 
women  were  sobbing. 

When  they  arose,  the  eyes  of  Charles  and  Julia  met. 
They  had  been  kneeling  together ; and,  when  the  rest  with- 
drew, the  lovers  were  beckoned  aside  by  the  priest. 

“My  dear  children,”  said  he,  when  they  were  seated, 
“ God  hath  conducted  thee  to  St.  Mary’s  holy  shrine  on  the 
day  of  separation.” 

“ Separation  !”  said  both  Charles  and  Julia. 

23 


266 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ Separation;  and  perhaps  a final  one,”  said  the  minis- 
ter.  “ The  earthly  shepherd  is  driven  away  from  his 
flock  ; but  the  heavenly  Shepherd  remains.  Be  of  comfort. 
The  spirits  of  the  pious  dead  who  lie  around  us  are  at 
peace.  We  must  join  them  in  time.  They  will  inscribe 
our  names  on  the  marble  over  our  dust,  and  we,  too,  will 
have  our  rest.  It  matters  not  where  they  may  place  us,  or 
who  chisels  the  monumental  marble,  or  what  inscription 
there  may  be  upon  it,  so  our  names  are  written  in  the  Book 
of  Life.  The  faithful  will  meet  again  in  heaven.  Farewell, 
my  dear  children  ! I must  go  !” 

“Go!  Whither?” 

“Whithersoever  they  may  drive  me.  I must  practise 
what  I have  preached.  We  are  commanded  to  render  unto 
Caesar  the  things  which  are  Caesar’s,  and  unto  God  the 
things  which  be  God’s  : — to  honour  the  king  and  obey  his 
statutes.  And  for  doing  this  my  enemies  have  decreed  that 
I must  leave  the  Colonies.  I will  not  attempt  to  pronounce 
judgment  in  this  unhappy  controversy.  Neither  will  I vio- 
late my  own  conscience  or  shrink  from  my  duty.  It  is  the 
last  time  I shall  see  the  faithful  remnant  of  my  beloved 
flock.  Hence  my  tears.  Farewell!” 

“Doctor,”  said  Charles,  “Julia  and  myself  are  affianced 
lovers.  Will  you  not  unite  us  in  lawful  wedlock  before 
you  go?” 

Julia’s  veil  dropped  down  over  her  blushing  face ; but 
she  trembled  and  withdrew  her  hand,  which  Charles  had 
seized. 

“It  may  not  be,  my  son,”  said  the  minister.  “I  know 
all.  Julia  has  told  me  all,  and  obtained  my  advice,  which 
is  disinterested.  I could  not  sanction  a violation  of  her 
solemn  pledge  to  her  father,  nor  could  I approve  of  her 
linking  her  earthly  destiny  with  one  who  might  bring  sor- 
row upon  her  gentle  spirit.  I know  you  would  be  incapable 
of  inflicting  pain  upon  the  beloved  of  thy  heart.  Others 
would  inflict  it.  When,  as  it  is  not  improbable,  like  other 
mistaken  enthusiasts,  you  shall  be  brought  to  the  block  for 

rebellion  against  the  king ” 

“Doctor!”  exclaimed  Julia,  “it  is  not  rebellion!  it  is 
revolution  ! And  I am  as  staunch  a patriot  as  Charles. 
Were  I a man,  I would  rush  into  the  battle-field  and  fight 
for  liberty!” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


26? 


“Poor  thing!”  said  the  doctor.  “Well,  my  dear  chil-  * 
dren,  you  must  excuse  me.  I cannot  and  will  not  violate 
my  sense  of  duty ” 

“ Forgive  me,  sir  !”  said  Julia,  quickly;  “ I do  not  desire 
you  to  perform  the  ceremony  which  Charles  is  so  anxious 
to  have  consummated.  But  I do  not  condemn  his  patriot- 
ism, and  I do  not  fear  the  cause  he  espouses  will  entail 
ruin  on  him.  I will  abide  by  my  promise  to  my  dying 
parent ” 

“ God  bless  you  both !”  ejaculated  the  minister,  holding 
a hand  of  each.  “Farewell!  Postpone  the  solemnization 
of  your  nuptials  until  this  hurly-burly  be  done.  If  God  so 
wills  it,  the  Colonies  may  be  free — if  separation  be  free- 
dom ; and  if  not — but  time  will  prove  all  things,  and  you 
are  both  young  enough  to  wait  for  the  end.  Adieu ! 
And  may  heaven’s  choicest  blessings  be  showered  upon 
y°u !” 

After  lingering  a few  moments,  Charles  and  Julia  with- 
drew, and,  as  they  strolled  together  toward  the  mansion  of 
Thomas  Schooley,  they  were  met  by  that  gentleman  him- 
self, very  pale  and  anxious. 

“I  hope  thee  will  tell  me  truly  and  without  delay,” 
said  he. 

“Tell  thee  what?”  demanded  Charles. 

“Whether  John  hath  spoken  truly.” 

“What  John?  There  are  many  of  them.” 

“ John  Brown,  the  hotel-keeper. . He  says  you  have  been 
married  at  the  church.” 

“Friend  Thomas,”  said  Charles,  “you  know  John  has 
acquired  the  accomplishment  of  lying.  And  I am  very 
sure  you  will  be  happy  to  learn  he  has  been  lying  to  thee 
this  time.” 

“That  may  be  very  witty;  but  thou  hast  to  learn  that 
principles  are  immutable  things.  I shall  be  glad  to  learn 
thee  has  not  been  wedded,  and  regret  that  John  lied 
about  it.” 

“I  am  justly  rebuked,  Thomas,  and  ask  thy  pardon,” 
said  Charles. 

“Thee  has  it.  But  thee  has  been  to  church  ?” 

“ Yes,  sir.  Dr.  Odell  believes,  as  you  do,  that  we  are 
rebels ” 


“ I know  that.” 


268  WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 

“ No  doubt ; but,  unlike  yourself,  lie  intends  to  leave  us/' 

“ He  leaves  no  estate  behind/’ 

“ His  treasure  is  above.  He  has  been  administering  the 
Holy  Communion  to  a remnant  of  his  flock,  who  have  taken 
a final  leave  of  him  at  the  altar.” 

“ Mummery!  Theatrical  pageantry!”  said  Thomas. 

“Mr.  Schooley,”  said  Charles,  “if  you  discard  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  your  religion  is  that  of  the  heathen  ; but  if  you 
be  a Christian,  how  can  you  deride  the  commands  of  the 
Saviour  ?” 

“Rebuked  in  turn!”  said  Julia,  as  she  sprang  into  the 
hall  of  her  guardian’s  house,  which  they  had  just  reached. 

“ Charles,”  said  Thomas,  as  the  young  man  paused  and 
was  about  to  return  to  his  hotel,  “if  thee  will  come  and 
sup  with  us  I will  explain  the  principles  of  our  religion.” 

“I  will  call  during  the  evening,”  said  Charles,  “and 
listen  to  thee,  provided,  if  we  should  be  converted,  thou 
wilt  sanction  our- ” 

“Pooh!  nonsense  !”  said  Thomas,  entering  the  hall  and 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

After  tea,  Charles  strode  out  alone  to  see  by  the  moon- 
light the  changes  which  had  taken  place  in  the  principal 
streets  of  the  old  village.  Burlington  had  then  been 
founded  more  than  a hundred  years. 

As  he  slowly  walked  along  the  margin  of  the  river,  be- 
tween Ben  Shephard’s  tavern  and  the  governor’s  house,  he 
was  overtaken  by  Paddy. 

“Be  jabers  ! and  it’s  meself  is  glad  to  mate  wid  ye,  Mis- 
ther  Charles,”  said  he. 

“ The  compliments  of  the  evening  to  you,  Paddy.  I sup- 
pose, Paddy,  you  are  a happy  man,  now  ; and  nothing  could 
induce  you  to  quit  the  town  again.  There  is  no  danger 
here.” 

“And  there  ye’re  out  of  it ! The  bloody  Bratish,  if  they 
could  catch  me  here,  wud  skin  me  alive,  like  an  ail ; and, 
as  for  sperrits,  and  witches,  and  hobgoblins,  this  ould  village 
bates  any  of  the  round  towers  in  Ireland.  Misthcr  Charles, 
do  you  belave  the  Quakers  are  rale  flesh-and-blood  paple  ?” 

“ Certainly !” 

“ Thin  I don’t ! Look  at  their  faces, — all  tallow  and  no 
blood ! If  one  dies,  it  don’t  disturb  a lay-party  in  the 
same  house  They  don’t  put  stones  over  their  graves,  and 


SECOND  SERIES. 


269 


a husband  dont  go  in  mourning  for  his  wife.  I don’t  be- 
lave  they’re  rale  flesh  and  blood.  When  one  dies  the  rest 
know  he’s  not  gone  far  off ; and  I belave  they  can’t  be  kept 
under  ground.  I’ve  sane  ’em  set  in  the  mating-house  wid- 
out  opening  their  mouths  only  jist  to  hoot  and  stare  like 
owls.  Sure  they  are  convarsing  with  sperits  when  they’re 
silent.  Look  at  their  hats  and  coats,  and  tell  me  if  mortal 
men  and  women  wud  dress  in  that  style  ?” 

“They  must  be  mortal,  Paddy,  for  they  love  money.” 

“ And  don’t  witches  and  sperits  love  the  falthy  lucre  ? 
Why  do  the  ghosts  of  murthered  paple  guard  the  pun- 
cheons of  goold  at  the  ould  tannery  in  Wood  Strate,  hid 
under  ground  by  the  pirate  Kadd  ? Why  do  the  witches 
daunce  and  sing  ivery  night  under  the  sycamore  by  the 
governor’s  house,  if  it  ain’t  to  watch  the  hidden  treasure  ? 
I belave  the  Quakers  are  witches  and  sperits,  and  that  the 
Yankees  did  right  to  burn  ’em  and  drown  ’em.” 

“Nevertheless,  you  are  in  the  service  of  one,  Paddy; 
but  where  are  you  going  ?” 

“ To  the  governor’s  house  itself.  Here’s  a paper 
sayled  up  which  Mr.  Schooley  bade  me  deliver  to  an  ould 
famale  woman  at  the  door.” 

“ Very  well,  I won’t  detain  you  ; but  I’m  afraid  we  won’t 
have  the  pleasure  of  your  society  in  the  country.” 

“ But  ye  will ! Be  the  powers ! I wuddn’t  stay  here 
for — pause  one  moment,  if  ye  plase,  Misther  Charles ! 
Surely  ye  wuddn’t  be  after  going  in  that  direction,  right 
up  Wood  Strate,  past  the  Pirates’  Tra,  when  the  stars  and 
the  moon  are  blanking,  and  wanking,  and  shammering, 
like  the  ghostly  sunlight  in  one’s  drames  !” 

“ Yes,  I am.  If  dead  men,  or  women  either,  walk  the 
earth  again,  I’m  not  afraid  of  them.” 

“ Thrue  for  you,  Misther  Charles  ; and  Alexander,  and 
Saizer,  and  Charles  the  Twelfth,  didn’t  fear  man  or  baste , 
but  that  didn’t  kape  ’em  out  of  danger.  Let  me  go  wid 
ye.  The  sperits  wont  appear  before  two  o’  us.” 

“ I’m  obliged  for  your  offer  of  protection,  Paddy ; but 
you  have  the  packet  to  deliver  farther  down  the  bank.” 

“ And  sure  it’s  but  a trifle  of  a little  step,  and  you  can 
jist  come  wid  me,  and  thin  I’ll  go  home  wid  ye.” 

“ Thank  you,  Paddy ; but  I’ll  take  my  chances  and 
brave  the  anger  of  the  dead  pirates.  Good-night!” 


270 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“Och,  Misther  Charles!  now  couldn’t  ye  oblige  me? — 
he’s  gone  ! And  I’m  in  a cowld  swate  ! And  I’ll  have  to 
tak’  howld  of  that  haunted  knocker  ! And  they  say  if  the 
divil’s  the  last  one  that  entered,  the  brass’ll  scorch  one’s 
fangers  ! Och,  murther  ! and  there’s  no  use  in  running 
from  ’em  ! Onyhow,  I’ll  pape  round  about  first.” 

Such  were  Paddy’s  words  as  he  drew  near  the  stately 
mansion ; while  Charles  paused  at  the  tanyard  in  Wood 
Street,  and  gazed  at  the  tree  under  whose  roots,  it  was  said, 
the  pirates  had  buried  their  treasure. 

44  Who  are  you?”  exclaimed  our  hero,  his  blood  chilled, 
and  his  heart  palpitating  in  spite  of  himself,  upon  seeing 
a figure  rise  up  from  one  of  the  half-filled  vats  and  ap- 
proach him. 

“ Skippie,”  replied  the  other. 

44  And  what  are  you  doing  here  ? acting  the  ghost  ? I 
have  heard  there  was  such  humour  in  you.” 

44  Knocker,”  said  Skippie. 

44 Knocker!  the  haunted  Knocker,  I suppose?” 

Skippie  nodded  affirmatively. 

44  Then  I am  to  understand  you  are  the  one  who  knocks  ?” 

Skippie  again  nodded. 

46  You  need  not  have  taken  the  precaution  to  inform  me, 
Skippie.” 

44  Horse-hair.” 

44  Horse-hair  ? Now,  you  will  have  to  make  a speech  of 
more  than  two  syllables  if  you  would  be  understood.” 

But  he  did  no  such  thing,  for  the  next  instant  he  had 
vanished ; and  Charles,  after  gazing  round  a moment,  re- 
sumed his  brisk  pace,  and  did  not  pause  again  until  he  was 
admitted  into  the  presence  of  Julia  and  her  guardian. 

Paddy,  after  a somewhat  prolonged  reconnoissance,  and 
during  which  he  failed  to  discern  the  gliding  form  of  Skip- 
pie, softly  approached  the  door  of  the  governor’s  mansion, 
and,  raising  the  handle  of  the  knocker,  gave  several  timid 
raps. 

But  no  sooner  had  he  relinquished  the  handle,  and  was 
standing  quite  still,  listening  for  a footstep  within,  than  the 
handle  seemed  to  lift  up  itself  before  his  face  and  make 
three  loud  raps. 

44  Howly  Yargin!”  cried  Paddy,  sinking  down  on  his 
knees. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


271 


The  door  opened,  and  a tall,  gaunt,  white-haired  woman 
stood  before  him. 

44  What  do  you  want?”  she  asked. 

44  Howly  St.  Pater  presarve  us  !” 

44  What  do  you  want  ? Did  you  not  knock  ?” 

44  Plase  yer  hon — yer  riv — I mane  yer  worshipful  patti- 
coats ” 

44  Did  you  knock?”  again  demanded  the  woman. 

44  I did;  and,  as  sure  as  the  sperits  walk  the  earth,  the 
divil  rapped  after  me.  I saw  it  wid  me  own  eyes  ! And 
it’s  a blessing  I arrived  first,  or  me  hand  wud  be  scorched 
to  the  bone !” 

44  What  do  you  want  ?” 

44  I’m  sure  I’m  obliged  to  ye  for  thim  words,  or  I shud 
niver’ve  bane  reminded  of  it ! Here’s  a sayled  paper  Mr. 
Schooley  has  directed  to  somebody  here,  such  as  can  rade 
the  inscription  ; but,  for  me  own  part,  I can’t  saa  a scratch 
bf  writing  on  the  back  o’  it.” 

The  woman  took  the  paper  from  his  hand,  and  re-entered, 
closing  the  door  behind  her.  Paddy,  who  had  risen,  stared 
after  her,  and  then  at  the  mysterious  knocker ; and,  while 
he  gazed,  the  handle  was  lifted  up  again,  and  three  distinct 
raps  sounded  in  his  ears. 

44  That’s  another  divil !”  said  he.  44  There’s  a whist  club 
of  ’em  mateing  here  to-night.  And  they’ll  drink  melted 
lead  over  their  cards.  Howly  Yargin  and  St.  Pater  ! kape 
Paddy  Pence  out  of  their  stakes !” 

The  knocker  was  sounded  again. 

•4  Another  divil ! There’s  at  layst  a dizen  in  the  club  ! 
Och,  Patrick  Pence ! if  there’s  ony  sprangs  in  yer  legs, 
let  ’em  do  good  sarvice  now,  or  they’ll  niver  be  of  any  vally 
to  ye  afther wards  !”  And,  saying  this,  he  sprang  away, 
and  ran  with  great  speed  up  the  river  toward  the  Ferry- 
House.  When  he  reached  the  corner  of  Main  Street,  he 
was  met  by  young  Ben  Shephard,  who  accosted  him. 

44  Are  the  witches  after  you,  Paddy  ?”  asked  the  youth. 

44  A whole  club  of  divils ! They’re  mating  at  the  gover- 
nor’s house.” 

44  If  that’s  it,  they  can’t  be  chasing  you.  Come  in  and 
take  a glass  of  cider  oil,  and  that  will  raise  your  spirits.” 

44  Sperits,  Misther  Ben ! Don’t  mintion  ’em.  But  if  you 
can  let  me  have  a glass  of  brandy  or  rum,  I’ll  pay  ye  to- 


272 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


morrow  afthernoon.’,  Paddy  drank  the  liquor,  and  then 
hastened  back  to  his  master’s  house,  panting,  but  not  so 
pale  as  he  had  been. 

When  he  presented  himself  in  the  apartment  where  Julia, 
Charles,  and  Mr.  Schooley  were  sitting,  words  rolled  rapid- 
ly from  his  tongue.  He  said  he  had  not  only  heard  the 
devils,  but  he  had  seen  them.  The  tips  of  their  fingers 
were  like  the  points  of  red-hot  pokers,  and  their  breath 
against  the  door  made  a black  mark  like  burnt  gunpowder. 

“ Thee  has  been  drinking,  I fear,  Paddy,”  said  Mr. 
Schooley. 

“ Bless  yer  honour’s  sowl,  I’ve  not  tasted  a dhrop  the 
howl  day,  and  I’ll  take  me  Bible-oath  on  it !” 

“No  oaths  in  my  presence,  Patrick,  or  thee  must  leave 
my  service  without  a character.  Answer  me  truly.  Thee 
says  thee  has  drunk  nothing  during  the  day.  Has  thee 
not  been  drinking  to-night?” 

“ Only  a dhrop  I tasted  to-night  at  owld  Ben  Shephard’s 
— and  that  was  afther  I saw  the  divils  and  the  witches. 
Your  honour  may  belave  me — it’s  thrue,  ivery  word!” 

Just  then  a rapping  was  heard  at  the  door. 

“Go,  now,  Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  “and  see  who 
comes  hither  at  this  hour.” 

“Plase  yer  honour,”  said  Paddy,  his  knees  knocking  to- 
gether, “ it’s  one  of  the  divils  ! I know  his  knock.  And 
he’s  afther  me  for  promising  to  pay  Ben  Shephard  for  the 
dhrink  to-morrow  afthernoon,  whin  I will  be  on  the  road  to 
Jenny  Jump  ! Misther  Charles  ! Miss  Julia  ! Wud  ye  not, 
one  o’  ye,  oblage  me  wid  the  loan  of  a thrippence  to  pay  it?” 
“Yes,  Paddy,”  said  Charles,  holding  forth  the  coin. 

“ And  wud  ye  not  bind  me  to  yerself  foriver  by  paying 
it  to  him  for  me  ?” 

“Who?” 

“ The  divil.” 

“Nonsense,  Patrick!”  said  Mr.  Schooley.  “Go  to  the 
door!  Does  thee  not  hear  the  rapping?” 

“Hear  it?  It  sounds  like  the  last  thrump  wThich  is  to 
waken  the  dead  ! Howly  Vargin  presarve  us  !” 

“ Go  to  the  door,  I tell  thee !” 

Paddy  spasmodically  rushed  into  the  hall,  and,  throwing 
open  the  street-door,  concealed  himself  behind  it.  He  stood 
there  sime  moments,  but  no  one  entered.  Presently  Mr. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


273 


Schooley  came  into  the  hall  with  a light,  and,  seeing  nc 
one,  endeavoured  to  close  the  door,  which,  however,  was 
held  back  by  Paddy. 

“ What  is  thee  doing  behind  there  ?”  asked  the  old  gentle- 
man. “And  who  knocked?” 

“ Who  knocked  ? Sure  it  was  the  divil !” 

“ Pooh  ! Close  the  door.  But  some  one  did  knock  ; and 
I suppose  he  got  tired  waiting  for  thee.” 

“And,  plase  yer  honour,  I hope  he’ll  niver  return,”  re- 
plied Paddy,  shutting  the  door  and  bolting  it.  But  this 
had  hardly  been  completed  before  three  distinct  raps  were 
heard  again. 

“Now  open  it,”  said  Mr.  Schooley. 

“ It’s  the  divil,  yer  honour ; and  he  don’t  git  tired  wait- 
ing ; but  he  niver  forgits  to  remember  who  he’s  afther !” 

“Do  thou  hold  the  light,  and  I will  open  the  door,”  said 
Mr.  Schooley.  It  was  done  ; but,  no  one  appearing  in 
view,  up  or  down  the  pavement,  or  across  the  street,  Mr. 
Schooley  seemed  very  much  surprised. 

“ Plase  yer  honour,  he’s  vanished  into  thin  air,  and  ye 
naadn’t  look  for  him.”  Mr.  Schooley  made  no  reply,  and 
was  proceeding  to  close  the  door,  when  three  more  knocks, 
the  vibrations  of  which  could  be  distinctly  felt,  were 
sounded  while  he  still  held  the  knob  in  his  hand. 

“ The  divil  agin  !”  said  Paddy.  “'The  club’s  adjourned 
to  our  house !” 

Mr.  Schooley,  adjusting  his  spectacles,  peered  once  more 
into  the  street ; and,  stepping  out  to  the  curb,  stood  some 
moments  in  silence.  And  when  he  turned  to  re-enter,  the 
handle  of  the  knocker  was  lifted,  by  some  invisible  means, 
before  his  face,  and  rapped  quite  as  startlingly  as  ever ! 

“ Murther ! I felt  his  breath  on  me  chake  !”  cried  Paddy, 
letting  the  candle  fall,  and  rushing  back  into  the  room 
where  Charles  and  Julia  were  sitting. 

He  was  followed  by  Thomas,  whose  face  was  paler  than 
usual,  and  whose  eyes  stared  wildly  through  the  glasses  of 
his  spectacles. 

“No  one  is  there,”  said  he.  “I  don’t  understand  it. 
Thee  may  go  to  bed,  Patrick.” 

“Plase  yer  honour,  I’m  afraid,”  said  Paddy. 

Charles  and  Julia  were  quite  composed,  for  they  knew 
Skip  pie  was  the  author  of  the  contrivance. 


274 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES! 


“ Thee  may  satisfy  thyself,”  said  Mr.  Schooley  to 
Charles,  hearing  the  rapping  again. 

Charles  went  to  the  door,  and,  hearing  a rustling  among 
the  branches  of  the  large  tree  that  stood  at  the  curb, 
looked  up  and  recognised  Skippie. 

“Ask  him  now!”  whispered  Skippie. 

“Ask  for  what?”  demanded  Charles. 

“ Julia.  Consent !” 

“Come  down,  and  go  to  your  room  at  the  hotel,”  said 
Charles.  “ No  more  of  this  nonsense.  I want  none  ol 
your  aid.”  Then,  after  a brief  examination  of  the  knocker, 
he  discovered  a line  of  white  hairs,  from  a horse’s  tail, 
reaching  from  the  handle  of  the  knocker  to  the  tree.  This 
he  snapped  asunder,  and  re-entered. 

“It  was  an  idle  boy’s  trick,”  said  he,  in  answer  to  the 
inquiring  eyes  of  Mr.  Schooley.  “Adieu,  Julia,”  he  con- 
tinued; “we  will  start  early  in  the  morning,  and  should  be 
at  rest  now.” 

“ Howld ! Misther  Charles,  if  ye  plase !”  said  Paddy, 
following  the  young  man  through  the  hall,  and  endeavour- 
ing to  detain  him. 

“Go  to  bed,  Paddy,”  said  Charles,  “and  be  up  early 
in  the  morning.  There  will  be  no  more  knocking  to- 
night.” 

.“And  did  ye  saa  him,  and  have  ye  his  wTord  for  it?” 

“No  matter;-  you  will  not  be  troubled  again.  Go  to 
bed,  and  think  no  more  about  it.” 

“ But  me  drames,  Misther  Charles  ! — they’ll  come  back 
in  me  drames,  and ” Charles  was  gone. 

About  the  same  hour  that  Charles  retired  to  rest,  a muf- 
fled individual  emerged  from  the  tavern,  and,  turning  west- 
ward, proceeded  along  what  is  now  Broad  Street;  but  at 
that  time  there  were  no  houses  west  of  Main  Street  except- 
ing the  church  and  parsonage.  The  solitary  nocturnal  pe- 
destrian, passing  the  Quaker  graveyard,  entered  Wood 
Street  and  directed  his  steps  toward  the  river.  When  he 
reached  the  gate  in  the  rear  of  the  governor’s  mansion,  he 
paused  and  reconnoitred  the  avenues  in  the  vicinity. 

Taking  a key  from  his  vest-pocket,  Mr.  Franklin — for  it 
was  the  late  royal  governor,  a fair,  fat  man  of  forty — en- 
tered the  garden.  Breathing  freely,  for  he  deemed  himself 
nowT  in  a place  of  security,  he  lingered  a moment  gazing  at 


SECOND  SERIES. 


275> 


the  loveliness  of  the  scene,  which  it  was  quite  impossible  for 
him  to  abandon  without  regret. 

By  means  of  another  key  he  entered  the  rear-door  of  the 
mansion,  and  was  embraced  by  the  tall  gray-haired  woman 
in  charge  of  the  premises. 

44  My  mother  !” 

44  My  son !” 

These  were  the  words  uttered. 

44  You  must  go  with  me  to  New’  York,  mother, ” said  he. 

46  No,  I shall  remain.  Such  is  the  will  of  your  father.” 

44  But  if  his  will  be  done,  mother,  what  will  become  of 
me  ? However,  it  won’t  be  done ! The  cause  he  is  em- 
barked in  is  a hopeless  one,  and,  as  your  affection  for  him 
can  never  be  eradicated,  it  might  be  in  your  power  to  serve 
him  if  you  resided  near  the  head-quarters  of  the  royal 
army.  Depend  upon  it,  he  will  require  our  interposition  to 
save  him  from  destruction.” 

44  No  more  of  that,  William,”  said  she,  with  a sigh. 
44  Your  father  knows  best,  and  it  is 'my  duty  to  be  governed 
by  his  direction.” 

44  Then  be  it  so,  good  mother ! But  the  papers  ! the 
letters!”  he  continued,  following  his  parent  into  the 
library. 

44  Here  they  are,”  said  she,  taking  a large  packet  from  a 
table  on  which  a small  lamp  was  dimly  burning. 

44 Are  all  of  them  here?  I have  not  time  to  examine 
them.” 

44 All.  But  why  not  destroy  your  father’s  letters?” 

44 1 shall  have  use  for  them,  perhaps,  in  my  efforts  tc 
save  him.  If  not,  mother,  they  shall  never  be  used  to  his 
injury.” 

44 1 hope  not,  my  son  ! And,  if  they  be  properly  inter- 
preted, they  could  not  be.  Whatever  Lord  Bute  may 
allege  to  the  contrary,  I have  the  best  reason  to  know  he 
was  always  true  to  the  cause  of  liberty.” 

44 Liberty!  Mother,  do  I not  enjoy  as  much  liberty  as 
my  father  ?” 

44 1 think  not.  He  never  skulked  about  in  the  night  to 
avoid  identification.” 

44  But  if  he  were  to  venture  within  our  lines  he  would  do 
the  same  thing.” 

44  He  will  never  go  to  the  British 


276 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ Enough,  mother.  Time  is  precious,  and  I must  be  on 
the  road  before  morning.  Has  Mr.  Schooley  come?” 
“No;  I hear  the  signal  now.  That  is  the  low  rap.” 
She  glided,  feeling  her  way,  through  the  dark  hall,  and 
a moment  after  returned,  leading  in  Friend  Thomas,  who 
was  greeted  in  a very  friendly  manner  by  the  ex-governors 
“ I am  glad  to  see  thee  looking  so  well,  William,  and  in 
such  high  spirits.  I trust  thee  is  cheered  by  the  prospects 
ahead.” 

“ Certainly.  During  the  year  both  Philadelphia  and 
New  York  will  be  in  possession  of  his  Majesty’s  troops,  and 
it  will  go  hard  if  I am  not  restored  to  my  office,  New  Jer- 
sey lying  between  those  cities.” 

“ It  would  seem  so,  indeed,  friend  William.  But  thee 
must  rely  upon  the  royal  troops ; thee  cannot  count  upon 
efficient  aid  from  the  citizens.” 

“ Then  the  citizens,  as  you  call  them,  will  have  no  special 
claims  on  me  when  I am  restored.” 

“ Dost  thou  mean,  William,  that  thy  restoration  will  be  a 
cancellation  of  thy  debts 

“ No.  Ha  ! ha  ! ha ! I owe  thee  a thousand  pounds, 
Thomas,  borrowed  money,  which  I will  repay.” 

“ I never  could  doubt  thy  honesty,  William  ; and  I hope 
thee  intends  to  pay  me  to-night.” 

“Not  a stiver  ! I have  no  money,  and  will  not  have  any 
until  the  war  is  over.” 

“What?  Does  thee  say  thee  has  no  money?  Why  didst 
thou,  then,  write  me  to  meet  thee  here  ?”  Thomas  was  much 
surprised,  and  deeply  disappointed. 

“I  desired  information  and  assistance/’ 

“ Thee  gets  no  more  assistance  from  me  !” 

“I  mean  assistance  for  the  king.  I hope  you  will  not 
deny  his  authority.” 

“ Thee  knows  I am  loyal ; but  I will  not  fight.  I can  do 
nothing  for  or  against  either  party.  All  I desire  is  to  be 
permitted  to  rest  in  peace.” 

“ You  can  tell  me  how  the  influential  men  are  affected, 
and  what  is  the  sentiment  of  the  other  classes.”  • 

“ Thee  knows  as  much  as  I do.  The  people  are  divided, 
and  are  required  at  home  to  keep  each  other  in  order.” 

“ Good  news  that,  Thomas  ! The  rebels  have  no  money, 
and  cannot  long  maintain  an  army  if  the  people  arc  equally 


SECOND  SERIES. 


27" 


divided.  But  we  must  be  fed.  We  want  another  hundred 
head  of  cattle.  Can  you  fill  the  contract  ?” 

“ I shall  have  some  beef-steers  and  fatted  dry-cows  for 
sale.  They  will  be  driven  to  the  Hudson  in  the  night  to 
avoid  the  robbers  roving  by  day.  I shall  ask  so  much  per 
head  in  gold,  and  I will  not  inquire  whether  the  purchaser  be 
Whig  or  Tory.” 

“ And  you  can  add  fifty  per  cent,  to  their  value  and  con- 
sider one-half  of  my  indebtedness  liquidated.” 

“ I must  do  no  such  thing,  William.  If  my  price  is  too 
touch,  no  one  is  bound  to  make  the  purchase.  But  thee  has 
something  else  to  say.” 

“ Yes.  When  we  are  again  in  possession  of  the  Jerseys, 
you  must  come  back  and  reside  in  the  civilized  portion  of 
the  State.  All  the  settlements  near  the  head-waters  of  the 
Delaware  will  be  destroyed  by  the  Indians.  Brandt  and 
the  Butlers  have  been  charged  with  that  service.  The 
Sachem  is  furious.  He  has  learned  that  his  sister  was 
murdered  by  the  men  under  the  command  of  the  young 
rebel  who  levies  contributions  from  thee  and  other  true 
loyalists  near  the  Gap,  and  who,  it  is  said,  is  to  wed  thy 
rich  ward.” 

“ William,  it  is  all  untrue  — untrue  from  beginning  to 
end,  as  I verily  believe.  My  ward  says  it  was  a Seneca 
Indian,  obeying  the  command  of  the  old  woman  called 
Queen  Esther,  who  fired  the  fatal  shot.  And  Julia  never 
lies.” 

aBut  we  must  not  discredit  the  other  story.  We  must 
say  nothing  on  the  subject.  We  are  at  war,  you  know.” 

“ I am  at  peace  with  all  men.” 

“ Nonsense  ! If  you  be  at  peace  with  his  Majesty's  ene- 
mies, you  make  yourself  his  enemy.  You  will  need  his 
clemency  and  protection  to  retain  your  estates,  after  this 
ward  of  thine  has  married  the  young  rebel  officer and  he, 
too,  the  son  of  Lochiel ! Why  has  not  Bonnel  Moody 
seized  him  ? Why  have  you,  as  a magistrate,  not  had  him 
arrested  ? Thomas,  these  things  will  be  against  thee  when 
peace  is  restored.” 

“ I have  resigned  my  commission,  William.” 

u And  that  was  right !”  said' the  old  lady. 

“ It  was  not  accepted !”  said  her  son. 

“ But  that  man  has  more  friends  than  the  King  in  our 

24 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


27* 

neighbourhood.  I don’t  know  where  they  come  from,”  con- 
tinued Thomas,  “but  1 tell  thee  the  truth.  He  cannot  be 
taken.  Whenever  he  is  assaulted,  the  Scots  come  from 
every  quarter  to  defend  him.” 

“Well,  get  thee  out  of  the  neighbourhood  before  the 
savages  arrive  ! They  will  overwhelm  every  thing,  like  the 
lava  from  a volcano  !” 

“ Thee  knows  our  people  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
Indians,”  said  Thomas,  “and  I shall  remain  in  the  country 
till  peace  be  restored.” 

“That  is  right!”  said  the  old  lady.  “And  I don’t 
think  King  George  will  ever  reign  over  this  people  again.” 

“ You  don’t  know  any  thing  about  it,  mother !”  said  her 
son,  evincing  the  impatience  and  displeasure  he  felt. 

“But  thy  father  does.  He  was  never  mistaken  in  his 
predictions.” 

“I  am  sorry  to  hear  thee  say  so,”  said  Thomas,  musing, 
for  he  attached  great  importance  to  the  opinions  of  the 
elder  Franklin,  with  whom  he  was  well  acquainted,  and 
with  whom  he  had  held  several  discussions  on  the  subject 
of  negro  emancipation,  Thomas  being  the  owner  of  valuable 
slaves. 

“ He  says  France  will  assist  the  Colonies,  and  advises  all 
persons  who  have  estates  not  to  imperil  them  by  joining  a 
doomed  party.” 

“Mother,”  cried  her  son,  “no  more  of  this!  I am  the 
President  of  the  Associated  Loyalists,  and  have  better 
means  of  judging  than  my  father  in  France.  One-half  the 
people  in  Jersey  are  loyal.” 

“They  were,  William,  until  you  set  Fenton  and  other 
freebooters  to  robbing  and  burning  !” 

“ They  merely  retaliate  on  the  rebels  who  have  ravaged 
my  farm  on  the  Bancocas.” 

“ That  was  after  you  had  Bichard  Stockton  seized  and 
thrown  into  prison.” 

“All  the  enemies  of  the  King  should  be  seized.  We’ll 
have  Stevens  and  Livingston  next ! But  I must  away ! 
Friend  Thomas,  if  you  would  partake  of  the  fruits  of  our 
victory,  you  must  contribute  something  to  produce  it. 
Confer  with  your  people ” 

“We  can  do  nothing,  William.” 

“ Enough  ! The  sword  will  decide  every  thing.  Then 


SECOND  SERIES. 


279 


there  will  be  a clay  of  reckoning ! But  learn  that  within 
a month  the. royal  armies  in  the  Colonies  will  number  at 
least  forty  thousand  men.  Washington  has  not  ten  thou- 
sand ! Choose  ye  between  them  !” 

“ No  ! Thee  cannot  make  me  choose  either.  I prefer 
the  reaping-hook  to  the  sword.  But,  William,  canst  thou 
not  pay  me  in  part ” 

“Not  a stiver,  now!  I have  not  money  enough  to  pay 
for  a dinner,  as  your  man  at  the  hotel  can  bear  witness.” 

“But  has  thee  not  some  plate ” 

“Yes,  on  Staten  Island!  If  you  will  call  there,  you 
may  take  it.” 

“Ah,  William!  I fear ” 

“Yes,  fear  and  tremble,  and  thus  work  out  your  sal- 
vation.” 

“ Farewell,  William  ! When  we  next  meet,  I hope  thee 
will  be  in  a better  humour.” 

“And  in  a better  condition  to  pay  the  debt.  Farewell; 
but  do  not  desert  the  royal  cause !” 

“ Thee  need  not  fear  that,  even  if  I lose  the  thousand 
pounds.”- 

“ The  hope  of  regaining  the  thousand  pounds  will,  1 
think,  contribute  to  keep  you  faithful  to  his  Majesty.” 

“ Thee  may  think  what  thee  pleases ! But  I will  not 
rebuke  thee.  Farewell.” 

And  Thomas  departed,  while  Franklin  hummed  the 
verses  from  Shakspeare’s  Macbeth,  beginning,  “When 
shall  we  three  meet  again  ?” 


CHAPTER  XX. 

JENNY  JUMP — RETURN  OF  THE  PRISONERS — BATTLE  AT 
THE  INN. 

Leaving  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader  the  meeting 
of  Kate  and  Julia  and  Solo — of  Charles  with  his  father, 
and  Paddy  with  everybody — and  the  effect  the  narration 
of  their  adventures  had  upon  the  minds  of  the  neighbours, — 
it  will  be  necessary,  without  delay,  to  proceed  to  scenes  of 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  r 


280 

a different  nature,  and  to  nse  the  utmost  privilege  of  com 
dcnsation  to  confine  them  within  the  limits  prescribed. 

One  day,  when  Julia  and  Kate  and  Charles  were  sit- 
ting under  the  broad  boughs  of  the  old  council-tree,  in  the 
quiet  little  valley  where  the  lovers’  vows  had  been  ex- 
changed the  preceding  year,  they  were  startled  by  the 
sudden  barking  of  Solo,  who  had  been  panting  at  their 
feet.  But,  upon  observing  the  faithful  sentinel  wag  his 
tail,  they  were  satisfied  no  enemy  lurked  in  the  vicinity ; 
and,  a moment  after,  they  beheld  Calvin,  the  young 
Delaware  chief,  slowly  and  gloomily  approaching.  His 
form  was  wasted,  and  his  eyes  deep  sunken  in  his  head. 

“My  brother !”  said  Charles,  stepping  forth  and  tender- 
ing his  hand  to  the  young  man.  He  grasped  it  in  silence, 
and  then  saluted  the  ladies  in  the  same  melancholy  manner. 
After  this  strange  proceeding  the  young  chief  occupied  the 
seat  which  had  been  offered  him,  and,  sighing  deeply,  re- 
mained with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground.  His  affection 
for  the  lost  Thrush  being  knowTn  and  respected,  no  one  de- 
sired to  make  allusion  to  the  mournful  catastrophe. 

“You  do  not  come  as  an  enemy,  I am  sure,”  said  Kate, 
“or  else  the  faithful  Solo  would  have  resisted  your  ap- 
proach.” 

“No,”  said  the  Delaware;  “the  Wilted  Grass  lies  on 
the  silent  grave.  It  is  no  longer  among  the  dewy  buds. 
The  spring  and  summer  of  its  existence  have  passed  away. 
The  blossoms  have  fallen,  and  the  sweetest  flower  of  the 
forest  hath  faded ! It  can  never  again  lift  up  its  head. 
Speak  to  one  another,  laugh,  and  be  happy.  As  for  me, 
regard  me  as  one  perished  from  the  earth  !” 

“No!”  said  Julia,  “you  must  learn  to  forget  the  woes 
of  the  past;  be  strong  of  heart  and  cheerful  of  spirit.” 

“Among  the  men  of  our  race,”  said  Kate,  “with  whom 
you  have  lived  and  been  educated,  it  is  not  usual  to  die  of 
grief  when  a loved  object  vanishes.” 

“No,”  said  Calvin,  his  head  still  drooping;  “they  are 
like  the  fowls  of  the  bam- yard.  But  I am  as  the  lonely 
dove  of  the  forest,  perched  upon  a blasted  tree,  waiting  in 
vain  for  the  mate  whose  breast  has  been  pierced  by  some 
cruel  sportsman.” 

“But  you  will  meet  in  heaven,”  said  Julia. 

“Ay — and  I would  go  thither  without  delay.” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


281 


“We  must  submit  without  complaining  to  the  will  of 
God,”  said  Charles.  “ But  tell  me,  Calvin,  is  it  true  the 
Mohawks  believe  that  I or  one  of  my  party  winged  the 
fatal  messenger  ?” 

“ The  Senecas  say  so,  and  Queen  Esther  asserts  it.  The 
Oneidas  alone  deny  it.  Gentle  Moonlight,  your  foster- 
mother,  is  a raving  maniac,  ever  calling  upon  you  to  save 
the  Thrush  from  the  arrows  of  Queen  Esther  !” 

“I  feared  so !”  said  Charles,  sadly.  “But  the  Senecas, 
who  perpetrated  the  deed,  and  their  demoniac  queen,  who 
demanded  the  sacrifice,  shall  pay  the  penalty!  Will  you 
not  go  v7ith  me  and  my  company  into  Tryon  county?” 

“ No,  I am  going  home  to  die.  Or,  if  the  Great  Spirit 
will  not  permit  me  to  perish  in  my  youth,  I will  bury  my- 
self in  the  Cedar  Swamp,  Avhere  neither  wars  nor  the  ru- 
mours of  Avars  can  reach  me.” 

“ But  the  rest? — can  you  tell  me  what  has  become  of  my 
faithful  Scots  and  Van  Wiggens  and  Peter  Shaver?” 

“ There  !”  said  Calvin,  pointing  in  the  direction  of  the 
DelaAvare  River.  And,  to  the  great  joy  of  Charles,  Wilted 
Grass  informed  him  that  the  Avhole  party  had  escaped  from 
the  Indian  villages,  with  some  twenty  Oneidas,  and  were 
then  approaching  the  settlement.  He  had  left  them  in  the 
'morning  at  the  river,  and  parted  with  them  merely  to  an- 
nounce their  coming. 

And,  having  performed  his  mission,  the  stricken  youth 
rose  up  and  vanished  in  the  forest.  He  did  not  pause  Avhen 
they  besought  him  to  remain,  nor  answered  a word  to  their 
entreaties. 

The  girls  and  Charles  hastened  a\\ray  to  announce  the 
tidings.  The  neAvs  Avas  received  with  stoical  indifference  at 
the  house  of  Mr.  Schooley,  Avhere  Kate  was  now  sojourning 
with  Julia.  Richard  wras  the  overseer,  and  neither  Van 
Wiggens  nor  Peter  Shaver  ever  managed  the  farm  to  a 
better  purpose  than  he. 

But  the  tidings  of  the  return  of  Hugh  McSAvine  and  his 
little  band  of  Caledonians  afforded  very  great  satisfaction 
to  the  “Gentle  Lochiel,”  the  recluse  father  of  Charles. 
Nevertheless,  his  bleached  locks  seemed  to  assume  a more 
siRery  aspect  and  his  face  a more  deathly  pallor  as  he 
gazed  upon  his  son’s  preparations  to  march  aAvay  again  in 
obedience  to  an  order  from  Colonel  Dayton  to  join  him 

24* 


282 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


with  his  company  at  Fort  Schuyler,  in  Tryon  county,  New 
York. 

“ Charles,  ” said  he,  “ beware  of  the  warning!  It  was 
the  same  that  appeared  to  me  in  Scotland.  Never  agree  to 
any  capitulation  with  a faithless  foe . Such  were  the 
words/’ 

“You  do  not  seriously  believe  in  such  things,  my  fa- 
ther,” said  Charles;  “ and  I am  sure  it  was  but  a feverish 
dream.” 

“ Wizards  are  spoken  of  in  the  Bible  and  in  the  writings 
of  Shakspeare.  I spurned  the  warning  before  the  day  of 
blood  on  the  field  of  Culloden.  If  I did  not  die,  I fell. 
We  may  doubt,  but  not  deny.  May  God  shield  you ! For 
myself,  my  time  is  nearly  spent.” 

Charles  did  all  he  could  to  cheer  his  desponding  parent, 
and,  prevailing  on  him  to  recount  some  of  the  romantic  ad- 
ventures of  Charles  Edward  when  a fugitive,  he  beheld 
once  more  the  flashing  eyes  of  the  Highland  chieftain. 

In  the  afternoon  the  news  of  the  approach  of  the  return- 
ing prisoners,  accompanied  by  twenty  Oneida  Indians, 
having  spread  for  miles  round,  the  inhabitants  of  the  entire 
neighbourhood  assembled  in  front  of  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens’s 
tavern,  now  a famous  stopping-place,  to  witness  their 
arrival. 

Mrs.  Van  Wiggens  was  very  nervous,  sometimes  appa- 
rently gay  and  lively,  and  at  others  musing  and  abstracted. 
She  was  doing  well  enough  alone.  She  had  mourned  her 
husband’s  loss  without  weeping,  and  had  quite  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  the  deprivation.  But  now  the  wound 
was  opened  afresh,  and  Yan  Wiggens  himself,  having  sur- 
vived amid  incredible  dangers,  was  approaching,  alive  and 
in  good  health. 

Julia  and  Kate  sat  in  the  carriage  before  the  door  of  the 
inn,  where  they  had  been  joined  by  Charles.  Paddy  held 
the  reins.  The  drum  and  fife  and  bagpipe  were  heard 
down  in  the  hollow,  where  Murphy  had  marched  the  com- 
pany of  patriots  to  welcome  the  wanderers  and  conduct 
them  to  the  place  under  a spreading  oak,  where  an  ox  had 
been  slaughtered  for  their  benefit.  This  was  the  contribu- 
tion of  the  Whigs  of  the  vicinity. 

The  first  individual  of  the  returning  party  who  made  his 
appearance  at  the  inn  was  the  little  stump-tailed  dog, 


SECOND  SERIES. 


283 


Watch,  who  was  recognised  and  received  with  a burst  of 
laughter.  He  ran  into  the  blacksmith-shop  and  smelt  at 
the  knee  of  his  master’s  negro. 

“ Is  dat  you,  Watch?”  exclaimed  Sambo,  his  eyes 
twinkling  and  his  uplifted  arm  suspended  over  the  anvil. 

Watch  bounded  away,  and  was  met  on  the  steps  of  the 
rude  porch  in  front  of  the  inn  by  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens’s  large 
black  tomcat,  whose  swollen  tail  and  arched  back  indicated 
the  nature  of  the  reception  the  dog  was  to  have  within. 
But  Watch  had  crushed  the  bones  of  too  many  coons  and 
other  animals  in  the  woods,  to  be  easily  repulsed  by  a do- 
mesticated “ varmint,”  and  that,  too,  on  the  threshold  of 
his  own  premises.  So  he  accepted  the  proffered  battle, 
and,  springing  upon  his  foe,  which  was  nearly  as  large  as 
himself,  but  not  so  experienced  in  desperate  warfare,  filled 
the  air  with  canine  and  carnivorous  sounds,  while  the  fur 
flew  in  every  direction. 

“ It’s  my  cat ! my  poor  Tom !”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van  Wig- 
gens,  rushing  forth,  broomstick  in  hand,  and  striving  in  vain 
to  part  the  combatants.  As  often  as  she  lifted  the  stick  to 
decide  the  conflict,  Watch  shifted  his  position;  so  that,  when 
the  instrument  was  about  to  descend,  the  black  cat  was 
either  uppermost  or  occupying  the  place  the  dog  had  held 
the  moment  before. 

“ Mercy  on  us  !”  once  cried  the  frightened  hostess,  when 
she  had  made  a determined  rush  upon  the  struggling  ani- 
mals, and  Watch,  avoiding  the  broomstick,  rolled  over  with 
the  cat  and  continued  the  combat  under  the  protecting 
shelter  of  the  strong  linsey-woolsey  gown  of  his  mistress. 
Mrs.  Van  Wiggens  sprang  aside,  and,  with  a glowing  face, 
aimed  a random  blow,  which  fell  upon  poor  Tom’s  head  and 
terminated  the  battle.  He  was  stunned,  but  not  killed ; 
and  Watch  would  have  given  him  another  shake,  had  he 
not  been  prevented  by  his  master,  who  stepped  forward 
and  lifted  him  up  in  his  arms. 

“ The  nasty  dog  !”  cried  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens.  “Do  kill 
him  for  me,  Mr.  Indian.” 

“Tam’d  if  I do!  PoorVatch!” 

“Why,  whose  voice  is  that?”  cried  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens, 
rushing  forward,  and  gazing  in  the  face  of  her  husband. 
“Is  this  you,  Mr.  Yan  Wiggens,  coming  home  painted  and 
dressed  like  a savage  ? And  to  bring  back  the  impudent 


284 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


dog  which  couldn’t  be  killed,  like  yourself!  Yes,  it  is  you  ! 
But  the  paint  hides  your  blush  of  shame.  And  what  did 

you  go  off  for  ? Why  did  you  abandon  your  family ” 

Tam  it,  stop  ! Stop  a minute  ! You  said  vamily — va- 
mily  ! — vat  vamily’s  you  got  ? My  vamily  never  vas  !” 

“ Oh,  you  needn’t  fire  up  so  ! And  you  must  bring  back 
the  nasty  dog ! You  know  how  I hate  him ! He’ll  steal 
the  meat  off  the  gridiron  ! You  know  I hate  a dog  and  a 
bear !” 

Mrs.  Yan  Wiggens  had  once  been  almost  suffocated  by  a 
huge  pet-bear,  and  ever  afterward  that  animal  was  the 
most  terrible  of  all  others. 

“ Yell,”  said  Van  Wiggens,  “I’ve  brung  you  von  nice 
bear.  Lead  him  here,  Peter.” 

Peter  Shaver,  likewise  habited  as  an  Indian,  came  for- 
ward, leading  a half-grown  bear,  whose  eyes  seemed  to 
glisten  with  delight  on  seeing  the  horror-stricken  hostess. 
He.  stood  up  on  his  hind-feet,  his  arms  asunder,  as  if  de- 
sirous of  embracing  his  mistress. 

Mrs.  Yan  Wiggens  screamed,  and  trembled  violently. 
She  besought  her  lord,  to  whom  she  promised  entire  sub- 
mission, to  send  the  horrid  beast  away. 

“Yell,”  said  Yan  Wiggens,  “I’ll  have  him  painted  first 
on  de  sign — and  de  sign  shall  pe  te  bear  and  te  anvil. 
And  you  mustn’t  take  it  down  agin.” 

And  subsequently  this  sign  became  famous  among  travel- 
lers in  that  region. 

During  this  brief  scene  it  'may  be  supposed  that  the 
young  ladies  in  the  carriage  were  highly  entertained,  and 
readily  espoused  the  side  of  the  husband. 

But  the  general  joy  was  cut  short  by  the  arrival  of  run- 
ners from  New  York  and  Pennsylvania,  with  the  informa- 
tion that  the  Butlers  and  Brandt,  led  by  St.  Leger,  were 
approaching  from  Canada,  and,  if  the  forts  on  the  frontier 
were  not  quickly  manned  and  bravely  defended,  the  whole 
region  between  the  Susquehanna  and  the  Delaware,  and 
on  both  sides  of  those  rivers,  would  be  overrun  and  ravaged 
by  the  Indians  and  Tories. 

No  time  was  to  be  lost.  Disgusted  at  his  own  recep- 
tion, and  the  manner  in  which  his  dog  had  been  welcomed 
back,  Yan  Wiggens  was  the  first  of  the  returned  party  who 
offered  to  march  with  Charles.  But,  subsequently,  nearly 


SECOND  SERIES. 


285 


all  who  had  beer  in  the  wild  woods  with  our  hero,  as  well  as 
the  small  party  of  Oneidas,  enrolled  themselves  in  his  com- 
pany. And,  as  each  announced  his  purpose,  Tim  Murphy 
had  the  occasion  signalized  by  a grand  roll  of  the  drum. 

“ I am  almost  tempted  to  volunteer  myself, ” said  Kate; 
“ and  I believe,  if  I were  not  here  to  keep  her  company, 
Julia  could  not  be  prevented  from  going. ” 

“ She  has  been  accustomed  to  see  her  defenders  in  the 
act  of  fighting, ” said  Charles  ; “ and  no  doubt  her  presence 
has  given  additional  vigour  to  many  a sinewy  arm.  We 
shall  miss  her.  But  she  will — both  if  you  will — think  of 
us  and  utter  prayers  for  our  success.  We  shall  be  defend- 
ing you  still ; and  it  is  better  to  meet  the  enemy  at  the  first 
outposts  than  to  resist  them  here.  The  forts  once  fallen, 
this  w^ould  cease  to  be  a place  of  security.  But  we  shall 
probably  return  very  soon.  There  will  be  no  long  sieges.” 

We  must  now  pass  over  many  historical  events  in  which 
some  of  our  characters  were  conspicuous  actors,  but  which 
are  not  embraced  within  the  limited  scope  of  this  narrative. 
The  fall  of  Herkimer,  the  timidity  of  Woolsey,  the  venial 
tardiness  of  Van  Rensselaer,  and  the  alternate  successes 
and  disasters  in  the  North,  the  reader  must  be  already  suffi- 
ciently familiar  with.  Charles  Cameron,  Hugh  McSwine, 
and  Tim  Murphy,  performed  their  duty  in  all  the  conflicts  in 
which  they  were  engaged  with  the  enemy  in  fort  or  field, 
and  received  the  commendations  of  their  superior  officers. 
Nevertheless,  the  tide  of  invasion  was  not  driven  back. 
Although  Sullivan  destroyed  the  Indian  villages  and  crops 
on  the  lakes,  and  although  Burgoyne  was  under  the  neces- 
sity of  surrendering  to  Gates,  yet  Philadelphia  had  fallen, 
and  the  enemy  possessed  the  two  principal  cities  in  the 
Colonies  and  commanded  all  the  harbours. 

It  was  at  such  a time,  when  the  more  densely-populated 
districts  were  paralyzed  by  the  presence  of  overwhelming 
numbers  of  the  British  and  Hessians,  that  the  dark  stream 
of  sanguinary  savages  poured  down  the  Susquehanna  and 
Delaware  valleys,  and  ravaged  all  the  Western  borders. 

And  during  the  absence  of  the  Jersey  volunteers  from 
the  counties  of  Hunterdon,  Warren,  and  Sussex,  Bonnel 
Moody,  with  his  band  of  robber  Tories,  committed  many 
depredations  on  the  unresisting  inhabitants,  consisting 
mostly  of  old  men,  women,  and  children. 


286 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


llut  the  young  ladies  continued  for  some  time  to  enjoy 
an  exemption  from  molestation  at  Thomas  Schooley’s 
house. 

And  Paddy*  with  spade  in  hand,  was  content  to  fight 
his  battles  in  the  garden ; while  Richard,  tired  of  the  de- 
lays dictated  by  Judith  Carlisle,  who  loved  him  not,  and 
whose  father,  it  seemed,  had  other  projects  in  view  as  his  - 
fortunes  rose,  again  sought  to  wTin  the  hand  of  Julia,  to  the 
infinite  diversion  of  Kate.  The  hum  of  Mary’s  wheel  was 
incessant  in  the  parlour,  and  the  bang  of  the  loom,  propelled 
by  a negro  woman,  vibrated  from  the  adjoining  shed 
without. 

Nevertheless,  the  repose  of  Mr.  Schooley’s  household  was 
doomed  to  a sad  interruption,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  next 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  SETTLEMENT  INVADED  BY  THE  INDIANS — ASTONISHING 
FEATS  OF  PADDY  AND  MRS.  VAN  WIGGENS. 

The  Indians,  if  they  did  not  make  night-assaults,  prowled 
about  in  the  day,  killing  their  enemies  and  destroying  such 
property  as  they  could  not  bear  away.  The  Tories,  de- 
sirous of  escaping  detection  when  the  next  turn  of  Fortune’s 
wheel  might  dim  the  lustre  of  the  cause  they  espoused,  con- 
trived to  keep  out  of  viewT  as  much  as  possible.  But  their 
depredations  and  cruelties  after  sunset  were  awful. 

Skippie,  who  saw’  every  thing  if  he  spoke  nothing,  had 
been  vTell  advised  of  the  approaching  tempest,  and  gave 
his  chief  early  information  of  Moody’s  contemplated  attack. 
And  the  Gentle  Lochiel  had  invited  Julia  and  Kate  to 
take  shelter  within  his  strong  wralls,  until  the  company  of 
patriots,  commanded  by  his  son,  whose  absence  had  been 
protracted,  should  return  to  the  neighbourhood.  The  girls, 
under  injunctions  of  secresy,  had  been  previously  admitted 
within  the  hidden  chambers ; and  therefore,  when"  the  sum- 
mons came,  accompanied  by  the  intelligence  that  the  In- 
dians (a  detachment  that  passed  the  forts  and  descended 


SECOND  SERIES. 


287 


the  rivers)  had  murdered  Colonel  Allen  in  his  bed,  and  a 
whole  family  by  the  name  of  Wells,  even  tomahawking  and 
scalping  the  infant  children,  they  obeyed  with  alacrity. 
It  was  in  vain  that  Mr.  Schooley  objected ; and  Mr.  Green 
and  others,  who  were  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  asylum 
tendered  them,  besought  them  not  to  take  refuge  under  the 
roof  of  a proscribed  exile.  The  Moravians — those  that 
remained,  being  few  in  number — offered  such  sanctuary 
as  their  structures  afforded,  and  vainly  supposed  their  pre- 
cincts would  be  respected  by  the  Tory  as  well  as  by  the 
Indian. 

Kate  and  Julia  were  hastening  away  with  Skippie,  when 
Mary  Schooley’s  wheel  ceased  its  humming  sound,  and  tide 
old  lady  made  a last  adjuration  as  follows  : — 

“ Thee  will  be  scandalized  forever ! Thee  must  pause 
and  reflect.  Thee  should  be  aware  that  to  be  shut  up  in  a 
lonely  place  with  a man ” 

“I  will  go,  Mary!”  said  Julia,  with  decision  and  firm- 
ness. “Dr.  Odell,  if  he  were  here,  would  sanction  our 
temporary  abode  with  that  pure  gray-haired  old  man. 
And  it  seems  to  me  that  the  pure  of  heart  could  never 
imagine  any  ill  proceeding  from  such  a source.  We  may 
confide  in  our  fathers,  I think,  with  quite  as  much  security 
as  in  the  usual  gossiping  guardians  of  the  public  morality. 
Come,  Kate !” 

“ But  thee  must  not  return ” began  Mary,  when  she 

was  checked  by  Thomas. 

“Not  return!”  cried  Julia,  thoroughly  aroused;  “and 
why  not?  Is  not  this  house,  this  estate,  mine?  Come, 
Solo!” 

“If  the  King  will  suffer  thee  to  have  it,”  was  the  only 
reply  that  reached  the  ear  of  the  offended  girl,  who  uttered 
not  another  word,  but  hastened  away,  followed  by  Richard, 
who  had  become  more  desperately  in  love  than  ever.  But 
she  did  not  heed  him.  Kate,  however,  pretended  to  admire 
the  slighted  young  man,  and  derived  much  amusement  from 
his  perplexities. 

The  girls  had  not  been  gone  more  than  a few  hours, 
before  Paddy  ran  in  from  the  garden. 

“ They’re  coming,  yer  honour,  they’re  coming  !”  cried  he; 
“ and  I know  they’re  tomahawking  and  sculping  the  paple 
on  the  way,  for  they  are  the  bloody  Senecas !” 


288 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“ How  does  thee  know  that?”  demanded  Mr.  Schooley 
“ Has  thee  seen  them?” 

“No,  yer  honour,  but  I heard  the  jackass  !” 

“ The  jackass !” 

“Yes,  Pater  Shaver’s  jackass  ; Popcorn’s  jackass.” 

“Thee  knows  Peter  is  with  the  wicked  men  of  blood  in 
the  Northern  forts.” 

“ But  the  Senecas,  with  Pater’s  ass,  are  here — here,  I tell 
ye  ! — and  yonder  they  come  through  the  orchard  ! Och, 
murther ! I’ll  hide  ! They  may  spare  you,  but  I know 
they’d  kill  me !” 

And  Paddy  ran  out  through  the  back  door,  and  into  the 
loom-house,  and  concealed  himself  in  the  loft,  where  a few 
planks  wTere  laid  loosely  over  the  joists. 

When  the  foremost  of  the  Indians  leaped  over  the  fence 
into  the  yard,  the  fat  old  Rose,  who  was  to  have  attended 
her  mistress,  but  contrived  delays,  as  usual,  was  met  by 
them  as  she  emerged  from  the  kitchen  with  her  packs  and 
bundles. 

The  leader  of  the  Indians  ordered  her  to  put  down  her 
burden,  and,  being  neither  comprehended  nor  obeyed, 
he  attempted  to  snatch  the  articles  out  of  her  herculean 
arms. 

“No  you  don’t,  you  nasty  mulatto ! Clar  out,  and  mind 
your  business,  or  Massa  Charles’ll  be  arter  you !” 

“ Charles  ! He  come  back  ?”  said  the  Indian,  still  grasp- 
ing a bundle. 

“None  o’  your  business  ! Let  go  !”  she  continued,  and, 
making  a violent  effort,  hurled  the  savage  some  ten  feet 
distant,  his  shoulder  coming  first  in  contact  with  the  earth, 
to  the  infinite  amusement  of  his  party v 

“ Dern  !”  cried  the  infuriated  Indian,  using  one  of  the 
expletives  of  the  white  man ; and,  springing  up,  aimed  his 
tomahawk  at  Rose’s  head.  It  sank  into  one  of  the  bun- 
dles of  clothing  without  doing  her  any  injury.  But  it 
damaged  her  mistress’s  wardrobe,  and  roused  the  fury  of 
the  faithful  old  servant.  So,  seizing  the  glittering  instru- 
ment, she  hurled  it  back  at  the  leader  of  the  savages.  It 
flew  wide  of  the  mark,  but  penetrated  the  forehead  of  one 
of  the  dusky  laughing  spectators.  He  fell,  pierced  to  the 
brain,  amid  the  vengeful  yells  of  his  companions.  In  an 
instant  poor  Rose  was  perforated  with  half  a dozen  rifle- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


289 


balls,  and  expired  without  a groan, — her  large  white  eyes 
still  open,  and  her  brow  contracted. 

Thomas  and  Mary,  having  witnessed  these  bloody  feats 
from  the  window,  were  painfully  shocked,  but  still  appre- 
hended no  danger  themselves. 

“ How  do  ?”  said  the  chief,  entering  the  house,  and  fol- 
lowed by  most  of  his  companions. 

“ I hope  thee  is  well,”  said  Thomas;  “but  thee  should 
not  have  killed  the  old  woman.  Thee  should  have  sought 
justice  before  the  civil  tribunals.  Thee ” 

“ Stop  them,  Thomas  ! Dost  thou  not  see  them  splitting 
the  oak  chest?”  cried  Mary,  whose  wheel  hummed  spas- 
modically, and  the  thread  was  broken. 

“lama  friend  of  the  King,  as  thee  has  no  doubt  heard,” 
continued  Thomas. 

“ Me  no  hear !”  was  the  angry  reply  of  the  Indian. 

“ I tell  thee  I am  loyal ; and  we  have  been  preparing 
food  for  thee.  Sit  dowh  and  eat.  Call  back  thy  band ; 
they  are  killing  my  woman  in  the  loormhouse ! Thee  must 
not  permit  such  acts !” 

“Me  no  come  to  eat.  Me  come  for  scalps!”  said  the 
Indian. 

“But  thee  must  not  hurt  thy  friends.” 

“Friends’  scalp  too.  You  no  scalp  our  enemies.  You 
no  friend.  Me  take  your  scalp.” 

“ No,  no  ; thee  will  do  no  such  thing.  Let  us  save  the 
woman  in  the  loom-house.  Thee  must  not  permit  them  to 
kill  her !” 

And  Thomas,  despite  the  threatening  attitude  of  the  In- 
dian, led  the  way  into  the  loom-house,  where  he  was  fol- 
lowed, and  quickly  surrounded  by  the  savages. 

The  negro  woman,  who  had  been  weaving,  lay  bleeding 
before  him,  tomahawked  and  scalped ; and  there  Thomas 
himself,  and  Mary,  pale  and  speechless  with  terror,  were 
rudely  seized. 

“Thee  will  suffer  for  this  deed!”  said  Thomas*.  “Do 
not  tremble,  Mary.  They  will  not  harm  thee.  They  merely 
want  our  money.” 

“Money!  where  is  it?”  demanded  the  chief,  whose  arm 
had  only  been  withheld  until  he  could  obtain  such  intelli- 
gence. 


25 


290 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“It  is  not  thine,  and  thee  shall  not  have  it!”  said 
Thomas. 

“ Oh,  let  them  have  it !”  said  Mary,  recovering  her  speech. 
“They  will  then  spare  us !” 

“ No  !”  was  the  savage  reply ; and  the  Indian  wound  his 
hand  in  her  long  gray  hair. 

“ Thee  will  all  suffer  for  this  outrage  !”  said  Thomas. 

This  threat  only  precipitated  matters.  Several  toma- 
hawks were  uplifted  to  dispatch  the  victims ; and  Thomas, 
seeing  no  relenting  symptoms  in  the  countenances  of  his 
captors,  cried,  “ Come  down  ! come,  Paddy,  to  the  rescue  !” 

The  savages  looked  up.  Paddy,  in  petrified  horror,  had 
been  gazing  down.  He  wras  now  incapable  of  stepping 
back  out  of  view ; but  rather,  in  the  terrible  fascination  of 
the  moment,  like  the  bird  when  falling  into  the  jaws  of  the 
rattlesnake,  tottered  forward  on  the  loose  planks,  which 
gave  way,  the  ends  opposite  flying  up,  and  he  was  pre- 
cipitated, with  a terrible  crash,  to  the  earth.  The  Indians 
yelled  and  ran  out.  They  supposed  a large  party  of  the 
enemy  were  concealed  in  the  loft,  and  believed  Thomas  had 
led  them  into  an  ambuscade ; and  Paddy’s  voice  sufficed  fot* 
the  tongues  of  a dozen  men.  Seeing  them  run,  he  called 
on  an  incredible  number  of  saints  to  save  him.  The  In- 
dians believed  they  were  the  names  of  persons  really  ex- 
isting, and  then  present  with  rifles  in  their  hands ; and  so 
they  fled  away  and  sought  shelter  in  the  woods. 

“ Thee  has  saved  us !”  said  Mary,  seizing  the  hand  of 
Paddy,  which  still  trembled. 

“ Howly  Pater  and  Paul !”  cried  he,  “ I thank  ye  both  ! 
It  was  the  blissed  saints,  yer  honour,”  he  continued,  address- 
ing Thomas,  who  stood  staring  at  his  weltering  slave.  “ The 
howly  church  has  saved  us ; and  I hope  yer  honour  will  go 
to  mass  for  it !” 

“ Thee  knows  not  what  thee  says,”  wras  the  response  of 
Thomas.  “It  was  not  thy  saints  nor  thy  valour,  but  my 
presence  of  mind,  which  saved  us.” 

“ Och,  murther ! Be  me  sowl,  I’ll  niver  do  a great 
action  agin  ! Sich  ingratitude  and  vanity ! And  did  not 
Paddy  himself  put  ’em  to  flight  like  King  David  did  Goliah 
and  his  hosts  ?” 

“ Nonsense,  Patrick  ! Don’t  stand  there  repeating  those 
old  fictions.  Thee  must  be  active.  Go  for  Mr.  Green ” 


SECOND  SERIES. 


291 


“Misther  Grane?  He’s  gone  himself,  sir!” 

“ Where?” 

“Plase  yer  honour,  you  forgit  what  he  said  yisterday.” 
44  Thee  speaks  the  truth  now ; I did  forget.  He  said  he 
would  go  to  some  block-house,  and  I should  have  gone  with 
him.” 

44  As  I was  saying,  yer  honour,  the  howly  saints  took  pity 

on  us,  and  tilted  up  the  planks ” 

44  Thee  must  not  talk  such  nonsense,  Patrick.  Thee  must 
help  me  to  bury  this  woman.  Dig  a grave  in  the  orchard.” 
44  But  I hope  yer  honour  will  niver  deny  that  I saved  you 

and  Misthress  Schooley  from  an  awful  death ” 

44  Patrick,  thee  is  trembling  yet !” 

44  Trembling,  is  it?  No,  yer  honour,  it’s  hate!” 

44  Hate  ? thee  must  not  hate  any  one.” 

44  Hate  onybody  ? that  isn’t  it.  I mane  hate  o’  the 
blood — choler — passion.  Me  blood  is  byling  with  hate  ! 
And  did  I not  rush  down  in  the  middle  and  surround  ’em  ? 
Plase  answer  me  that,  Mr.  Schooley  ! And  it’ll  be  a tale 
to  be  towld  in  the  chimbley-corners  o’  winter  nights  after 
Paddy’s  flesh  is  grass  ! And  I’m  only  sorra  I didn’t  kill 
more  uv  ’em  !” 

44  Thee  has  been  much  with  the  Indians,”  said  Mary, 
44  and  thee  ought  to  know  what  that  noise  means.” 

44  That,”  said  Paddy,  listening  to  the  yells  down  the  val- 
ley in  the  direction  of  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens’s  inn,  44  is  the 
murthering-halloo ; and  they’ll  be  back  agin  for  our 
sculps ! so,  Mrs.  Schooley,  if  ye’ll  take  an  ould  Indian- 
fighter’s  advice,  you’ll  get  Mr.  Schooley’s  money  and  be 
oft'  to  the  bushes  widout  losing  a minute.  I’ll  pilot  ye 

through  the  woods  to  the  Moravian  church 

44  No,  thee  shall  do  no  such  thing,”  said  Thomas.  44  If 
the  episcopal  mummery  of  those' people  can  save  them,  the 
higher  spirits  within  our  own  bosoms  must  suffice  for  us,  as 
they  have  already  rescued  us  once.” 

44  Divil  the  fear  they  have  of  ony  sperits ! It  was 
Paddy’s  arm  that  made  ’em  run.” 

44 Patrick,  thee  forgets  thyself!”  said  Mr.  Schooley, 
nevertheless  hastening  to  save  his  money ; and,  when  it  was 
obtained,  they  set  out  toward  the  block-house. 

The  Indian  accidentally  killed  by  Rose  was  buried  with 
great  care  by  his  comrades,  so  that  his  body  might  not  be 


292 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


found  and  the  scalp  torn  from  his  head.  The  greensward, 
after  being  cut  smoothly  round,  was  lifted  aside,  and  re- 
placed when  the  body  was  deposited  in  the  earth,  so  that 
no  one  could  have  discovered  the  grave.  Nevertheless,  the 
slain  savage  did  not  appear  to  be  a man  of  much  import- 
ance among  his  fellows,  for  their  mirth  and  laughter,  when 
they  recounted  the  events  at  Mr.  Schooley’s  house,  seemed 
very  hearty.  However,  they  made  no  unnecessary  delay 
in  their  progress,  and  the  next  place  they  visited  was  Mrs. 
Van  Wiggens’s  establishment.  They  appeared  first  before 
the  blacksmith’s  shop.  There  was  a Mr.  Van  Etten  (and 
Mrs.  Van  Wiggens  seemed  to  have  a partiality  for  Dutch- 
men) employed  to  shoe  horses  and  mend  ploughs  during 
Van  Wiggens’s  absence ; and  this  man  saw  the  Indians 
when  approaching,  guided  by  the  sound  of  the  negro’s 
hammer  on  the  anvil. 

44  Indians!  Stop  dat  blaw-mocJc ,”  (bellows,)  said  he, 
hurriedly,  addressing  the  negro.  64  Dey  von’t  hurt  you, 
Sambo ; tarn  it,  you  stay  here,  viles  I climb  up  de 
chimbley.” 

The  negro,  terror-stricken,  seemed  incapable  of  disobe- 
dience. The  Indians  came  in  and  gazed  round.  They 
looked  under  the  bench  and  behind  the  bellows,  but  did  not 
see  the  one  they  were  in  quest  of.  Van  Etten  had  been  a 
famous  Indian-fighter  in  the  former  war,  and  was  well 
known  to  them. 

44 Where  Van  Etten?”  demanded  the  leader,  seizing  the 
negro  by  the  shoulder. 

44  Gone!”  said  Sambo,  recollecting  his  orders;  44dar’s  no 
sich  man  here;  he’s  gone,  I tell  you,  and  dat’s  ’ficient.” 

The  Indians,  amused  at  the  negro’s  manner,  entertained 
themselves  with  an  examination  of  the  tools  in  the  shop, 
retaining  such  as  they  might  have  usb  for.  One  of  them, 
in  imitation  of  the  smith,  thrust  a bar  of  iron  into  the  fire, 
and,  seizing  the  handle  of  the  bellows,  blew  vigorously. 
The  negro,  hearing  Van  Etten  sneeze,  slapped  the  Indian 
on  the  arm,  and  said,  as  his  master  had  done  a few  minutes 
before,  44  Stop  dat  blaw-mock  /” 

The  Indians,  diverted  at  his  seeming  unconsciousness  of 
danger,  desisted  from  further  annoyance,  and,  leaving  him 
in  the  shop,  directed  their  steps  toward  the  house.  The 
leader,  aware  there  were  no  men  within,  entered  first,  and 


SECOND  SERIES. 


293 


6eeing  in  the  small  bar  bottles  of  apple-brandy  and  Ja- 
maica rum,  could  not  resist  his  inclination  to  take  a dram. 
It  was  when  the  bottle  was  at  his  mouth  that  Mrs.  Van 
Wiggens  entered  from  the  dining-room.  Supposing  the 
brawny  savage  to  be  her  lawfully-wedded  husband,  re- 
turned from  the  war,  she  said  nothing ; but,  seizing  the 
broom,  and  approaching  on  tiptoe,  aimed  a blow  at  his  head 
with  the  straw  end  of  it.  The  Indian,  astonished,  and 
slightly  stunned,  let  the  bottle  fall,  and  then,  gazing  regret- 
fully a moment  at  the  wasted  fluid  inundating  the  floor,  fell 
into  a violent  passion. 

“Dern!”  exclaimed  he.  “Me — you  be  dern ! White 
squaw  ! Dern  me  you !” 

“ How  dare  you  swear  at  me,  Van  Wiggens?”  cried  Mrs. 
Van  Wiggens. 

“Van  Wiggens  be  dern!”  cried  the  Indian.  “Me  have 
white  squaw’s  scalp !”  he  continued,  drawing  forth  his 
tomahawk. 

But  Mrs.  Van  Wiggens,  perceiving  her  mistake,  turned 
the  other  end  of  the  broom  handle,  which  was  of  hickory, 
and  dealt  him  a blow  on  the  head  that  brought  him  to  his 
knees,  and  the  tomahawk  falling  from  his  grasp,  she  picked 
it  up.  But  he  arose  and  rushed  forth  before  she  could  use 
it.  She  followed  him  to  the  door,  however,  and  hurled  the 
instrument  harmlessly  after  him. 

The  Indians  laughed  heartily  to  see  their  leader  flying 
from  a squaw ; and  that  little  incident  induced  them  to  spare 
the  lives  of  the  negro  and  his  mistress,  or  at  least  to  post- 
pone the  operation  of  taking  their  scalps,  and  to  pursue 
the  trail  of  the  young  girls  without  further  delay. 


H94 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

/ULIA  AND  KATE  TAKE  REFUGE  WITH  THE  EXILE — THE 

CAPTIVES — MOODY’S  LAST  INCURSION — THE  QUAKER’S 

MONEY — PADDY’S  CONVERSION. 

“ See  the  poor  fawn  !”  said  Julia,  pointing  to  a bleeding 
young  deer  that  lay  in  their  path. 

“ Poor  creature  !”  said  Kate ; “some  cruel  man  has  done 
this  merely  to  test  his  skill !” 

“It’s  fat,”  said  Richard,  feeling  the  .ribs  of  the  dying 
animal. 

“And  w.ould  you  be  so  cruel  as  to  eat  the  pretty  thing?” 
asked  Kate. 

“ It  is  better  than  a pig,  and  I’m  very  fond  of  them. 
Thee  would  like  it,  I’m  sure.” 

“Never ! I would  not  taste  the  flesh  of  that  poor ” 

“ Richard,”  said  Julia,  gazing  at  the  arrow  which  pierced 
the  fawn,  “leave  it!  Do  you  not  see  it  is  wounded  by  an 
arrow  ? It  may  not  have  run  a mile  since  the  shaft  was 
winged  at  its  side,  and  its  bloody  trail  may  be  followed  by 
the  Indian  that  wounded  it !” 

Neither  Kate  nor  Richard  had  thought  of  that ; and, 
abandoning  the  fawn,  the  party  lost  no  time  in  reaching 
Tower  Rock — the  name  bestowed  on  the  abode  of  the  aged 
exile. 

Richard,  declining  the  invitation  to  tarry,  bade  the  girls, 
and  particularly  Julia,  a doleful  farewell.  And  Kate,  when 
she  extended  her  hand  in  parting,  archly  imitated  the  de- 
sponding gestures  of  the  sighing  lover.  Richard  departed 
bewildered  and  bewitched ; for  the  girls,  when  mischievously 
inclined,  certainly  do  possess  the  power  of  enchanting  inex- 
perienced swains. 

Poor  Richard,  ruminating  as  he  retraced  the  solitary 
path,  sad  and  deserted,  since  the  tiny  feet  of  the  dear 
charmers  had  abandoned  it,  forgot  the  dying  fawn  and  all 
other  shafts  but  Cupid’s. 

Thus  enraptured,  he  paused  in  the  densest  part  of  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


295 


forest  before  a large  beech-tree,  on  the  rind  of  which  he 
distinguished  , something  among  the  many  marks  that  re- 
sembled a J.  Supposing  it  might  be  the  initial  of  his  lady- 
love, he  stepped  forward  and  kissed  it.  It  had  been  meant, 
however,  for  a horseshoe,  to  indicate  that  some  one,  pro- 
bably an  Indian,  had  gone  in  a certain  direction  on  horse- 
back. And  feeling,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  quite 
y oetical,  he  drew  forth  his  knife  and  carved  some  verses 
on  the  tree. 

After  finishing  the  inscription,  and  when  turning  mourn 
fully  away,  he  was  confronted  by  the  leader  of  the  Senecas. 

“ How  do?7  said  the  Indian,  advancing,  and  laying  his 
hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  astonished  youth. 

“ Thee  knows  my  father — — ” began  Richard. 

“No.  Don’t  know  him  ! What’s  that  ?”  he  demanded, 
pointing  at  the  inscription.  It  was  a famous  writing  or 
picture  tree,  which  had  been  used  by  the  savages  for  many 
generations.  They  could  interpret  the  marks  made  by 
themselves,  but  those  cut  by  Richard  were  wholly  unintel- 
ligible. 

“Thee  cannot  understand  it,”  said  Richard. 

“ Read — say  !”  continued  the  Indian. 

Richard  obeyed. 

“Julia!  Antelope!”  said  the  Indian.  “He  love!” 
Then,  uttering  something  aloud  in  his  own  language,  the 
rest  of  the  savages  rose  up  from  the  tangled  bushes,  or 
emerged  from  behind  the  trees,  and  came  forward  laugh- 
ing heartily  at  the  interpretation  of  the  inscription  given 
by  their  leader. 

“Thee  knows  my  secret  now,”  said  Richard;  “and  thee 
will  not  take  her  away  again.” 

“Antelope  must  go  ! Queen  Esther  calls  her.” 

“ I tell  thee  no.  She  shall  not  go.” 

“ She  nice  squaw.  Make  me  wife.” 

“Thee  a wife!”  said  the  indignant  Richard.  “If  thee 
harms  her,  or  takes  her  away  again,  Sir  William  Howe 
shall  be  informed  of  it,  and  he  will  have  thee  scourged.” 

The  Indian  sneered  at  the  threat;  still,  he  could  not  for- 
get that  Sir  William  was  the  King’s  great  General.  But 
he  was  far  away,  and  dead  men  could  tell  no  tales.  And 
yet  he  felt  some  hesitation  in  putting  to  death  those  who 
professed  loyalty  to  the  King,  and  moreover  the  pro- 


296 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


verbially  peaceful  Quakers.  Nevertheless,  as  he  paused  in 
doubt,  his  anxiety  to  procure  scalps — for  which  the  Indians 
received  a certain  price  from  the  British — almost  induced 
him  to  sink  his  tomahawTk  into  the  unoffending  head  of  his 
sighing  captive.  But,  recollecting  the  enterprise  was  to  be 
mainly  under  the  direction  of  Bonnel  Moody,  who,  with 
his  band  of  Tories,  had  appointed  the  beech-tree  as  the 
place  of  meeting,  he  reluctantly  desisted.  Richard’s  hands 
were  bound  behind  him,  and  he  had  no  assurance  of  escap- 
ing death  at  the  stake. 

A rustling  was  heard  in  the  vicinity,  and  soon  after 
voices  were  distinguished.  The  Indians  concealed  them 
selves,  commanding  Richard  to  be  silent. 

The  stragglers  drew  near,  following  the  narrow  path. 

“Thee  must  be  lost,  Patrick  !”  said  Mr.  Schooley,  weary, 
and  with  torn  garments,  supporting  his  wife. 

“Be  me  sowl,  I shouldn’t  wondher !”  said  Paddy,  lead- 
ing the  way,  and  now  in  full  view  of  the  hidden  In- 
dians. 

“ Thee  don’t  know  it,  though,”  said  Mary.  “ Thee  has 
been  to  the  fort  twice,  and  thee  should  have  learned  the 
way  better.  I pray  thee,;  Thomas,  let  me  rest  a few 
minutes  on  this  fallen  tree.” 

“ Thee  shall  be  gratified,  Mary.  Patrick,”  he  continued, 
when  Mrs.  Schooley  paused,  “ thee  said  thee  was  quite  sure 
the  path  we  started  in  was  the  right  one.” 

“ Yis,  yer  honour,  I’ll  be  sworn  we  started  right.” 

“Swear  not  at  all,”  said  Mary.  “Thee  knows  it  is 
wrong.” 

“Yis,  ma’am.  But  I could  take  me  oath  I thought  it 
the  right  one.” 

“I  hope  thee  was  not  mistaken,  and  that  we  may  be  still 
in  the  proper  path,”  said  Thomas. 

“And  we  may  soon  be  there,”  said  Mary.  “Lead  on; 
I can  walk  a little  farther.” 

“It’s  no  use!”  said  Paddy.  “ I know  we’re  lost,  yer 
honour.  I know  it  by  the  queer  fayling  I have  in  me 
head.  And,  be  that  same  token,  we  shall  be  saised  by  the 
blackguard  savages.” 

“Thee  had  best  be  silent,  Patrick,”  said  Mr.  Schooley. 

“ I will,  yer  honour.  But,  as  I was  remarking  a while 
ago,  if  the  Indians  should  saise  us,  I hope  it  will  be  no 


SECOND  SERIES. 


297 


harm  for  me  to  pass  for  a Quaker,  if  it  be  the  mares  of 
saving  me  life.’ 

“Use  no  deception,  Patrick,”  said  Mrs.  Schooley,  “even 
for  the  sake  01  saving  thy  life.” 

“But,  thin,  yer  honour,”  continued  Paddy,  appealing  to 
Mr.  Schooley,  “ I’m  about  to  be  in  arnest.  If  it  will  save 
me  life,  divil  take  me  if  Paddy  himself  don’t  be  as  thrue 
and  sinsare  a Quaker  as  iver  drew  the  breath  of  life.” 
“Thee  can  neither  deceive  us  nor  God,”  said  Mrs. 
Schooley. 

“Desaving,  is  it?  I wud  scorn  to  desave  onybody  but 
a blackguard  savage,  and  I hope  there’d  be  no  harm  in 
that.  But  I’ll  go  to  yer  matings,  wear  yer  coats,  and 
spake  in  thaas  and  thous,  and  be  as  vartuous  as  ony  saint, 
if  it’ll  kape  the  sculp  on  the  top  o’  me  crown.” 

“ Thee  has  yet  to  learn  that  our  religion  is  not  meant  to 
save  our  lives,  but  our  souls,”  said  Mr.  Schooley. 

“ And  is  that  same  the  thruth  ? Och ! I thought  you 
wuddn’t  fight  for  fear  o’  gitting  kilt ! But — murther  ! 

I saa  an  Indian!  Remimber,  I’m  a Quaker,  onyhow !” 

The  Seneca  chief,  rising  up,  advanced  toward  them,  fol- 
lowed by  the  rest,  who  surrounded  the  weary  fugitives. 
They  made  no  resistance. 

“ Thee  is  the  same  person  we  saw  this  morning,”  said 
Thomas,  gazing  at  the  chief. 

“Oh,  father!”  said  Richard,  stumbling  forward,  “is  it 
thee  and  my  mother  I behold  ?” 

“Yea,  verily,  Richard!”  said  Mrs.  Schooley.  “And 
why  didst  thou  wander  so  far  away  from  thy  home  and 
leave  thy  parents  to  shift  for  themselves?” 

“ So  far,  mother  ? It  is  not  far.  This  is  the  path  lead- 
ing from  our  house  to  the  Tower  Rock.  Thee  is  now  - 
almost  in  sight  of  thy  home.” 

“ Verily  it  is  true  !”  said  Thomas.  “ I know  that  tree. 

It  is  on  my  land.  Thee  has  been  leading  us  a strange 

wild-goose  chase,  Patrick— ” 

“ Plase  yer  honour,”  said  Paddy,  “ don’t  use  me  name  in 
this  company.  Thee  knows  I have  been  lading  meself  as 
well  as  thee  in  the  wrong  way.  Yea,  verily!  Heigh-ho  ! 
And  you,  Misther  Indian,  tell  me  thy  first  name,  and  1 
will  call  thee  afther  the  manner  of  our  paceable  paple,  who 
fear  God  and  honour  the  King,  and ” 


298 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


44  Cease  ! cease  thy  silly  jargon,  Patrick!” 

44  Plase  yer  honour,  don't  call  me  Patrick,”  whispered 
Paddy,  44  because  the  natives  hate  the  Irish  worse  than  the 
divil!”  ^ 

44  But,  Richard,”  said  his  mother,  44  why  have  they  bound 
thee  ?” 

44  Thee  sees  I am  their  prisoner,  and  will  bear  witness 
against  them.” 

The  chief  uttered  some  commands  to  his  followers,  when 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Schooley,  and  the  quaking  Paddy,  were  all 
seized  and  bound. 

u Divil  a bit  more  will  I be  a Quaker,”  said  Paddy, 
44  for  they  saize  thim  as  well  as  other  folks ! And 
now — ” 

44  Peace,  Patrick,”  said  Thomas,  44  and  learn  resignation 
from  us.  They  have  bound  and  plundered  us,  and  yet  we 
do  not  complain.  We  are  sustained  by  a supporting  prin- 
ciple within,  and  thee ” 

44  Och,  now,  Misther  Schooley,  none  of  yer  praiching  to 
me.  It’s  too  late.  They  know  me ; for  one  of  ’em  was  in 
the  battle  on  the  Scioto,  and  at  the  fort,  and  he  can’t  forgit 
Paddy.  It  won’t  do  to  stay  here.  I must  escape.  They 
won’t  hurt  you,  when  all  yer  money’s  gone.  But  whiles 
they’re  dividing  yer  goold  I’ll  git  off.” 

They  were  truly  at  that  moment  in  a dispute  about  the 
treasure.  The  sum  found  on  Thomas  and. Mary  was  un- 
expectedly large,  and  it  had  been  the  weight  of  the  money 
which  produced  the  exhaustion  of  the  latter. 

Paddy,  therefore,  bursting  asunder  the  cords,  slipped 
away  unobserved. 

44  Be  jabers,  I’m  fraa  agin !”  said  he,  pausing  and  lis- 
tening, after  creeping  some  distance  and  finding  himself 
not  pursued.  44  And  I mane  to  stay  fraa.  Divil  take  the 
Quakers  ! I thought  the  blackguards  wuddn’t  handle  the 
nasty  craters  ! But  they’ve  bound  ’em  like  pigs  for  a fair. 
The  blissed  Catholic  religion  is  the  best  afther  all,  both  for 
this  world  and  the  nixt!  When  I confess  agin,  I’ll  pro- 
mise niver,  niver  to  desart  the  pope  !”  And  Paddy  fell 
down  on  his  knees  and  repeated  a prayer.  44  Och,  mur- 
ther !”  cried  he,  springing  up  again.  44  And  I’ve  been 
knaling  beside  a big  rattlesnake ! Jist  hear  what  a fuss 
he  makes!  And  there  he  is,  kyled  up,  wid  his  head  and 


SECOND  SERIES. 


299 


tail  in  the  middle  o’  him.  I’ll  kill  the  divil ! No!”  he 
continued,  pausing,  with  a stone  suspended  in  the  air ; 
“ it  may  be  the  divil  himself,  come  agin  in  the  form  of  a 
sarpent.  And  kin  Paddy  kill  the  divil  ? Divil  the  bit ! 
The  praist’ll  say  he  was  afther  me  for  taming  Quaker. 
Och,  howly  Saint  Pater,  forgive  me  ! Good-by,  Misther 
Divil,  I’ll  lave  ye,  and  I hope  your  nasty  riverence  won’t 
follow  afther  me.  I don’t  desire  yer  company,  and  I’m 
sure  ye’ll  have  yer  hands  full  o’  the  Quakers.” 

So  Paddy  left  the  huge  rattlesnake,  which,  as  is  some- 
times the  case,  neither  advanced  nor  retreated  from  the 
ground  it  occupied.  But  the  fugitive  had  become  confused, 
and  knew  not  whether  to  direct  his  steps,  and  trembled  lest 
he  should  again  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians.  He 
recollected  with  regret  and  dismay  the  many  tales  he  had 
told  of  the ‘terrible  slaughter  he  had  made  in  the  numerous 
battles  he  had  fought,  and  was  frightened  at  the  conviction 
that  his  fame  had  spread  throughout  the  wilderness,  like 
that  of  Boone  and  Kenton  and  McSwine. 

Meantime  the  contention  over  the  treasure  rose  to  such 
a pitch  that  knives  were  unsheatked,  tomahawks  brandished, 
and  no  doubt  the  disputants  would  have  proceeded  to  blows, 
(such  being  the  evil  consequence  of  a lust  for  wealth,)  had 
not  Moody  and  his  band  of  Tories  arrived  upon  the  ground 
in  time  to  prevent  the  catastrophe. 

The  Tories  being  more  numerous  than  the  Indians,  and 
the  latter  having  been  directed  by  Queen  Esther  to  obey 
the  commands  of  the  royalist,  Moody  cut  short  the  dispu- 
tation by  seizing  the  money  himself,  promising,  however, 
to  make  an  equitable  division  at  his  cave. 

“ And  now,  friend  Schooley,”  continued  Moody,  “ why 
are  your  hands  tied  in  that  manner  ? Did  Murphy’s  men 
do  it?” 

“ Thee  knows,  Bonnel,  that  Timothy  is  away  with  his 
company,  or  else  thee  would  not  be  here.  It  was  thy 
men — these  Indians,  Bonnel ! And  thee  need  not  pretend 
to  be  ignorant  of  it.  Thee  knows  it  is  my  money  in  thy 
leathern  bag.  Ah,  Bonnel,  Bonnel ! This  is  the  pro- 
tection of  George’s  friends  by  his  officers ! Thee  knows 
very  well  we  are  loyal  to  the  King.” 

“X  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Schooley,”  said  Moody,  in 
tones  of  pretended  earnestness.  “But  you  shall  see  that 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


3oO 

I am  not  to  blame.  It  is  necessary  for  me  to  act  thus.  1 
intended  to  be  here  before  the  Indians,  and  then  these 
things  would  not  have  occurred.  But  now,  if  I were  to 
give  you  back  the  money,  the  savages  would  leave  me,  and 
perhaps  murder  you.” 

“Thee  knows  how  to  plead  for  money,  Bonnel,”  said 
Mrs.  Schooley. 

“ But  you  shall  lose  nothing,  madam,”  replied  Moody. 
“ Every  penny  shall  be  paid  back.  We  will  go  at  once  to 
your  house — if  they  did  not  burn  it — and  I hope  they 
didn’t ” 

“No,  they  did  not,”  said  Mr.  Schooley;  “but  thee 
knows  the  burning  would  not  be  so  great  a loss  to  me  as 
the  taking  of  my  money.” 

“I’ll  convince  you  of  my  friendship,”  said  Moody,  cut- 
ting the  cords  that  bound  the  captives.  “ These  are  our 
friends,”  he  continued,  winking  to  the  Indian  chief,  who 
had  only  executed  the  Torv-robber’s  orders.  “We  will 
conduct  them  back  to  their  home,  and  dine  with  them,  as 
a token  of  our  penitence  for  the  mistake.” 

“ If  thee  would  convince  us  of  that,”  said  Thomas, 
“thee  had  better  give  me  the  money.” 

“ That  is  filthy  lucre,  Thomas,  and  its  restitution  might 
cause  a quarrel,  and  perhaps  bloodshed,  among  the  King’s 
friends.  No ! You  would  not  have  such  sins  committed 
for  the  sake  of  the  dross  ! But  you  shall  lose  nothing.  I 
will  give  you  a receipt  for  the  whole  sum,  which  will  be  the 
same  thing  as  an  order  on  the  King’s  treasury,  when  peace 
is  restored.” 

“ Thee  has  the  power,  and  thee  can  act  as  thee  pleases,” 
said  Thomas ; “ and  thee  can  include  the  value  of  my  negro 
woman,  which  was  two  hundred  pounds.” 

“ I will ! And  it  shall  be  taken  out  of  the  pay  of  the 
Indians.  They  should  have  known  better  ! And  I’ll  add 
twenty  pounds,  friend  Thomas,  for  our  dinner,  and  we’ll 
call  it  forage.” 

“ Bonnel,  thee  knows  my  loyalty,  and  I do  not  doubt  that 
George’s  armies  will  resubjugate  this  rebellious  people. 
Nevertheless,  thee  would  please  me  better  by  giving  me 
back  my  money  and  withholding  thy  order.” 

“It  is  impracticable,  sir,”  said  Moody,  “and  I am  sorry 
for  it.  Come  on  ; you  are  now  free,  and  the  Indians  will 


SECOND  SERIES. 


301 


do  you  no  further  injury  unless  you  insist  too  much  on 
having  back  the  gold.” 

“And,  be  the  powers,”  said  Paddy,  stepping  forward, 
having  wandered  back  in  his  endeavours  to  get  away,  “I 
am  included  in  the  same  party!  I’m  one  of  ’em,  Misthei 
Mody,  and  I’m  thruly  glad  we  have  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  sich  a liberal  and  ginerous  gintleman.” 

Paddy’s  return  produced  no  particular  commotion,  since 
his  absence  had  not  been  observed.  One  of  the  Indians, 
however,  seeing  his  hands  were  loose,  seized  him  by  the 
hair,  and  called  upon  his  comrades  to  bind  him  again,  say- 
ing, in  his  own  language,  that  Paddy  was  a furious  warrior 
and  had  killed  a great  number  of  their  people.  But  this, 
when  interpreted  by  Moody,  was  flatly  denied  by  Paddy. 
He  said  his  boasting  was  all  gammon,  and  that  he  had 
never  hurt  the  hair  of  an  Indian’s  head ; and  Thomas 
demanded  his  release  as  one  of  his  household. 

“And  that’s  thrue,  Misther  Mody,”  said  Paddy;  “I’m 
one  of  his  family,  if  ye  plase.” 

“You  no  son  of  Quaker,”  said  the  Seneca  chief.  “You 
Irish — and  Murphy  Irish.  We  burn  Murphy — we  burn 
Paddy.” 

“ I beg  yer  pardon,  sir  !”  said  Paddy.  “ Tim  Murphy’s 
a great  fighter  and  has  killed  a dozen  blag — Indians. 
Tim’s  a brave  warrior,  and  Paddy’s  a coward !” 

Paddy  had  no  sooner  made  this  admission  than  the  In- 
dian struck  him  a blow  on  the  head  with  the  handle  of  his 
tomahawk,  which,  although  it  produced  no  wound,  felled 
him  to  the  ground. 

“You  are  a fool,  Paddy,”  said  Moody,  interfering  and 
preventing  further  punishment,  “for  confessing  yourself  a 
coward.  That  is  the  greatest  crime  of  which  you  could  be 

guilty-”. 

“ Divil  take  ’em!”  said  Paddy,  rising.  “There’s  no 
phasing  ’em ! But  I’ll  do  as  you  say.  And  I’d  be  ex- 
tra mely  oblaged  if  ye’d  let  me  go  and  wait  upon  the  young 
ladies,  who  are  wishing  for  me  at  the  Tower  Rock.” 

“ Tower  Rock  ! Yes,  you  shall  go  there  with  us,  Paddy. 
We  will  visit  them  to-night.  They  will  know  your  voice, 
and  perhaps  you  can  aid  us  in  getting  possession  of  the  old 
refugee.  You  shall  share  the  reward  and  have  a portion 
of  his  treasure.  I suppose,  Paddy,  since  you  are  one  of 

26 


80S 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


Mr.  Schooley’s  family,  we  can  rely  upon  your  loyalty.  If 
you  are  a Whig,  say  so,  and  we’ll  have  your  scalp  on  the 
same  string  with  the  negro  woman’s,  and  save  the  hind- 
quarter  of  a pig  at  dinner.” 

“ Say  so  ? And  wud  ye  have  me  tell  a lie,  Misther 
Mody?  I was  born  under  the  reign  of  King  George,  of 
glorious  mimory ! Misther  Mody,  if  iver  I live  to  git  back 
to  ould  Ireland,  the  king  shall  hear  from  Paddy’s  lips  what 
a tlirue  and  valuable  subjict  he  had  in  the  wild  wuds  of  the 
Jenny  Jump  Mountain ! You  are  fit  to  be  a gineral,  Mis- 
ther Mody,  and  his  Majesty  couldn’t  do  a betther  dade 
than  to  make  ye  a knight,  and  bestow  on  ye  a noble  ances- 
try. Try  me,  Misther  Mody,  and  saa  if  Paddy  don’t  drive 
the  ould  gray  rat  into  yer  hands.  And  as  for  the  reward, 
Paddy  has  not  the  maneness  of  sowl  to  desire  a pinny  of 
it ! No,  Misther  Mody,  it  shall  be  all  yer  own.”  And,  as 
he  cast  up  his  eyes  to  impress  Moody  with  an  idea  of  his 
sincerity,  he  beheld  Skippie  in  the  tree  over  his  head, 
winking  and  making  mouths  at  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  EXILE’S  STRONGHOLD — PADDY’S  DIPLOMATIC  SKILL — 
THE  ALARM — THE  ENTRANCE CONDUCT  OF  THE  DOG. 

When  the  girls  entered  the  hut  the  aged  exile  cordially 
greeted  them,  and,  having  the  dark  barrier  removed  in 
readiness  for  their  ingress,  they  passed  at  once  into  the 
rock-bound  chambers  of  the  cliff. 

“M y dear  children,”  said  the  exile,  “you  are  safe  here. 
They  dinna  ken  the  holes  o’  the  old  fox,  but  believe  he  is 
in  league  wi’  the  de’il.  But  they  will  come  again  in  the 
gloom  of  midnight,  or  when  the  shimmering  stars  are 
still  gemming  the  early  morning.  They  suppose  there  is 
treasure  hidden  here,  and  for  that  they  would  delve  into  the 
infernal  regions.  I have  treasure  for  my  bonny  laddie  and 
his  love,  but  not  for  the  instruments  of  the  usurper.” 

He  then  exhibited  to  the  admiring  girls  several  rich  pre- 
sents from  Charles  Edward  and  other  Scottish  monarchs  to 


SECOND  SERIES. 


303 


himself  and  his  ancestors,  and  entertained  them  with  re- 
citals of  the  deeds  which  had  been  commemorated  by  the 
gifts. 

But  the  glittering  stones  were  but  as  pretty  toys  in  com- 
parison with  the  indestructible  products  of  mind ; and 
cnief  among  these,  and  ever  to  be  unrivalled,  was  the  im- 
mortal Shakspeare.  “ The  artist  and  the  lapidary  might 
fashion  a gem  produced  by  nature,”  said  he,  “but  the  great 
poet  was  a creator  of  worlds  in  which  one  might  live  and 
breathe  unconscious  of  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to.” 

Thus  for  several  hours  were  Kate  and  Julia  entertained, 
when  they  were  interrupted  by  the  creaking  of  the  massy 
door  communicating  with  the  hut.  It  was  Skippie,  who 
had  come  to  inform  his  chief  of  the  arrival  of  several  of 
the  clansmen  from  the  mountain,  (being  all  that  remained,) 
and  who,  in  accordance  with  the  chief’s  directions,  were 
then  concealed  among  the  brambles  on  the  summit  of  the 
cliff,  armed  only  with  bows  and  arrows  and  spears,  being 
too  weak  in  number  to  make  any  open  resistance  to  the 
assaults  of  Moody’s  party.  He  likewise  informed  his  chief 
of  the  scene  he  had  witnessed  under  the  tree,  and  repeated 
to  the  girls  (for  he  could  speak  when  commanded  by 
Lochiel)  the  verses  inscribed  on  the  beech’s  rind. 

Skippie  was  commanded  to  admit  Paddy  when  he  arrived, 
and  afterward  to  go  in  quest  of  Charles. 

When  the  moon  had  dipped  beneath  the  western  horizon, 
and  the  silent  scene  was  wrapped  in  the  solemn  gloom  of 
darkness,  the  approach  of  Moody  and  his  gang  was  an- 
nounced by  the  loud  and  shrill  whistle  of  Skippie,  who  lay 
concealed  on  the  margin  of  the  stream  that  meandered  by 
the  base  of  the  precipitous  cliff.  As  he  anticipated,  the  signal 
was  heard  by  the  hostile  party,  which  immediately  halted. 

“They  have  been  informed  of  our  approach,”  said 
Moody  “ That  is  their  signal.  I have  heard  it  before, 
and  every  time  we  were  foiled.  It  must  not  be  so  now. 
They  cannot  have  a large  force,  unless  the  old  wizard  has 
the  power  of  calling  infernal  spirits  to  his  aid.  Go,  Paddy, 
and  deliver  this  paper  to  the  old  man.  If  he  is  not  a fool 
he  will  grant  the  demand,  and  save  at  least  the  lives  of  his 
defenders  and  the  two  maidens  with  him,  as  well  as  his 
own.  You  may  say  I have  the  positive  assurance  of  an 
officer  of  high  rank  that  if  he  surrenders  himself  into  my 


304 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


hands,  although  they  cannot  withhold  the  reward  from  me, 
there  is  not  the  slightest  probability  of  his  execution.  Go, 
Paddy,  and  bring  me  his  reply  to  the  summons.  And  be- 
ware that  you  do  not  deceive  us ! We  are  at  least  ten  to 
one,  and  there  could  be  no  escape  for  you.  And  you  may 
say  that  Brandt  himself,  with  five  hundred  warriors,  is  by 
this  time  sweeping  down  the  Wyoming  Valley.  The  garri- 
sons are  all  surrendering.  The  tomahawk  and  the  firebrand 
are  doing  the  work  of  extermination;  and  it  is  not  probable 
the  old  fox’s  son,  or  any  of  his  company,  will  survive  to 
raise  the  siege,  if  we  must  be  delayed  awaiting  the  prize. 
Tell  him  we  believe — no,  say  we  have  learned —that  he  has 
a cave  under  the  hut,  into  which  he  usually  retires  in  times 
of  danger,  but  that  it  will  not  serve  him  now.  If  he 
refuses  to  yield  himself,  we  will  dig  him  out ; and  the  more 
labour  and  trouble  he  causes  us,  the  greater  will  be  the 
exasperation  of  the  Indians.  Go ! And  if  you  neglect 
your  duty,  or  fail  to  return  within  ten  minutes,  we  will 
commence  the  assault,  and  you  will  be  burnt  at  the  stake !” 
“Murther!  And  if  they  won’t  let  me  come  to  ye,  am  I 
still  to  be  roasted  alive  wid  the  wooden  spit  stuck  in  me?” 
“ Yes,  you,  and  every  one  with  him.” 

“ But  they  may  kill  me  as  I go  till  ’em,  taking  me  for 
an  inemy !” 

“ Then  you  won’t  feel  the  fire.  But  you  shall  be  roasted 
for  the  wolves.” 

“ Och,  Mr.  Mody,  don’t  say  that,  if  ye  plase  ! It  makes 
the  cowld  chills  run  up  me  back !” 

“ The  flames  will  take  them  out  again.  No  more  words 
— but  go  !” 

Paddy  started  forward  desperately,  making  a great  noise 
in  the  bushes.  And  when  he  was  in  sight  of  the  hut  he 
began  to  call  aloud,  so  that  his  voice  might  be  recognised. 
“ Don’t  shoot!”  cried  he.  “ I’m  Paddy,  the  Irishman,  and 
not  an  inemy.  I’m  only  a flag  of  truce,  that  all  the  nations 
howld  sacred  as  the  howly  wafer ! I haven’t  the  speck  of 
a gun;  and  sure  ye  wuddn’t  fire  at  an  unarmed  and  defence- 
less man  who  has  been  wid  ye waah  !”  he  screamed,  as 

he  was  seized  by  the  lurking  Skippie. 

“ Silence !”  said  Skippie,  pulling  him  toward  the  hut. 

“ Ye  may  well  say  that,  afther  ye  have  taken  me 
breath !”  said  Paddy. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


305 


“Whisper!”  said  Skippie. 

“ I can’t.  Me  mammy  didn’t  tache  me  that.  But  I 
kin  run !”’  and  he  sprang  forward  with  such  activity  that 
he  wTas  soon  sheltered  within  the  hut,  where  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  no  one  to  whom  his  message  could  be  de- 
livered. 

“ Where’s  the  owld  man  ?”  he  asked.  “ If  he’s  gone, 
I shall  be  kilt  and  roasted  alive ! Skippie,  dear,  I forgive 
all  the  pranks  you’ve  played  me,  and  only  beg  you’d  git  me 
out  of  the  scrape  I’m  fallen  into ! What  shall  I do?” 

“Go  in  there !”  said  Skippie,  pointing  toward  the  fire. 

“No! — ye  don’t  mane  it!  Sure  ye  wuddn’t  see  me  burn 
meself  to  save  me  life  ! And  the  minutes  are  flying  like 
the  sparks  up  the  chimbley ! I had  only  a repraive  of  tin, 
and  half  of  ’em’s  gone  a’ready !” 

“ Go  in  !”  said  Skippie,  seizing  the  iron  bar.  “ I’m  in  a 
hurry.” 

“ In  the  fire,  is  it  ? Divil  a bit ! If  I’m  to  be  burnt,  I 
shall  wait  till  the  time’s  up.  And  what’re  ye  doing  now  ? 
Tak  care ! The  back  o’  the  wall’s  moving,  and  the  house’ll 
tumble  down.  But  that  wuddn’t  save  us,  as  they  don’t 
mane  to  lave  wan  stone  on  anither ! Be  me  sowl,  it’s  a 
door!  And  there’s  a howl  in  the  wall!”  he  continued,  in 
joyful  amazement.  “And  if  it  lades  to  the  divil  himself, 
I’ll  in !”  And,  leaping  over  the  crackling  billets,  he  entered 
the  opening,  and  the  massy  rock  was  pushed  back  by  Skip- 
pie, who  uttered  once  more  his  shrill  whistle  as  he  plunged 
into  the  woods. 

The  chamber  Paddy  was  ushered  into  was  illuminated 
by  a small  lamp.  He  stood  in  the  centre  and  gazed  round 
in  utter  astonishment.  The  aged  exile  and  the  girls  were 
silently  observing  him,  themselves  unseen. 

“ Be  jabers,  but  this  is  a quare  place  ! And  if  Skippie 
is  the  divil  afther  all,  it’s  Paddy  himself  who  is  caged ! 
I’m  in  it  now ! But  I’ll  sarve  him  faithfully  if  there’s 
no  worse  punishment  than  to  stay  in  sich  comfortable 
quarthers.  Be  me  sowl,  I don’t  know  whether  I’m  draining 
or  waking.  Rouse  up,  Paddy,  and  open  yer  eyes ! Where 
are  ye,  me  boy?  Be  the  howly  St.  Patrick,  it’s  not  a 
drame,  or  I couldn’t  fale  me  ear  when  I pinch  it ! And 
is  it  his  infarnal  majesty  who  kapes  sich  nice  apartments  ? 
I wondher  if  he  allows  his  paple  to  ate,  too  ? I sraeb 


306 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


mate.  And  so  they  ate — and  dhrink  too,  I hope — in  the 
nather  ragions.  But,  Paddy,  don’t  forgit  the  ten  minutes !. 
Time’s  up,  by  this  time.  And  kin  the  blackguards  come 
here  too  ? It’s  meself  who  hopes  not ! Wa-ah  ! Oo-oh  !” 
cried  he,  starting  back,  as  he  perceived  Julia  and  Kate 
emerging  from  the  dark  passage.  “And  is  it  yer  blissed 
selves  the  divil’s  got  ? And  ye’re  smiling,  too  ! Or  is  it 
fairies  me  eyes  behowld?  Och,  and  wudan’t  ye  be  kind 
enough,  gintle  sperits,  to  tell  me  whether  Paddy’s  raally 
shaping  or  waking  ?” 

“Your  eyes  are  open,  Paddy,”  said  Kate;  “but  still 
you  may  be  dreaming.” 

“ That’s  yer  voice,  I know.  And  so  Paddy’s  alive,  and 
not  roasting  at  the  stake  ? And  this  is  the  rale  house  of 
owld  Misther  Cameron  ! It’s  a palace  for  a king  ! And 
there’s  his  honour  himself.  Och,  and  I’ll  deliver  me  mes- 
sage, onyhow !” 

And  he  did  so.  The  aged  exile  read  the  note  and  listened 
to  Paddy  without  stirring  a muscle. 

“Go,”  said  he,  “into  the  balcony,  facing  the  stream, 
where  our  foes  are  awaiting  my  answer,  and  say,  with  your 
loudest  voice,  that  the  usurper’s  enemy,  whom  they  seek, 
will  hold  no  converse  with  them,  and  defies  them !” 

“And  it  must  be  thrue  that  we  are  safe,  or  sure  you 
wuddn’t  bid  me  say  sich  a thing  ? The  saints  be  thanked  ! 
And  Paddy’s  the  boy  that’ll  answer  ’em.  Plase,  now,  swate 
darlints,  show  me  the  way  to  that  same  balcony,  and  go  wid 
me,  or  I might  stumble  and  fall  through.” 

“It  is  a solid  floor,  Paddy,”  said  Julia,  smiling. 

“And  it’s  yerself  who  considers  us  safe  in  this  house?” 

“Quite  safe,  Paddy;  even  if  they  were  to  discover  the 
entrance  from  the  hut,  one  man  with  a brace  of  pistols 
could  defend  the  passage.” 

“And  Paddy’s  as  snug  as  a bug  in  a rug !”  said  he,  half 
singing  and  half  dancing  for  joy.  “And  you  don’t  think,” 
said  he,  “ that  if  the  blackguards  were  to  burn  the  house, 
I mane  the  wudden  hut,  the  hate  would  reach  us  here?” 

“ Oh,  no  doubt  their  hate  would  reach  us  anywhere ; but 
we  can  defy  their  malice.” 

“ I don’t  mane  that,  but  the  hot  hate  of  the  burning 
tambers.” 

“No;  they  burnt  the  hut  once,  and  no  one  suffered.” 


SECOND  series. 


307 


44  Good  ! Paddy's  a fraa  man  agin  ! and  as  lively  as  an 
aal.  Now,  plase,  lade  me,  to  the  balcony,  and  jist  listen  at 
the  brave  rnissage  I’ll  spake  till  'em  !’’ 

t)  ulia  and  Kate  led  Paddy  to  a sort  of  masked  balcony 
ingeniously  carved  in  the  rock,  where  there  had  been  a 
fissure,  overgrown  with  ivy  and  small  cedars. 

44  Now,  Misther  Mody,  where  are  ye  ?’’  he  cried,  in  a loud 
voice. 

64  Here  ! What  does  he  say,  Paddy  ?"  responded  Moody. 

44  He  ses  he  won’t  disgrace  himself  by  howlding  any 
conversation  wid  sich  a set  of  blackguards  as  ye  are." 

44  What?  What’s  that?" 

44  He  says  ye  may  all  pack  off  to  the  divil,  and " 

44  Why,  Paddy,"  said  Julia,  44  he  said  no  such  thing !" 

44 1 know  it,  Miss  Julia.  It  is  an  imbillishment  of  me 
own." 

44 And  you  use  the  devil  for  an  embellishment,"  said 
Kate." 

44  Och,  if  the  ladies  turn  agin  me,  poor  Paddy  must  sur- 
rinder !" 

44  If  that’s  his  answer,  Paddy,  you  may  come  back,"  said 
Moody. 

44  Many  thanks  to  ye,  Misther  Mody.  And  could  ye  tell 
me  what  time  o’  the  day  it  is?" 

44  Day,  Paddy?’  observed  Kate. 

44  Double  day,  miss,  since  two  suns  are  baming  on  me." 

44  There  !’’  said  Julia.  44  Whoever  heard  a more  gallant 
speech  ?" 

44  What  do  you  mean,  Paddy?"  asked  Moody,  who,  guided 
by  the  voice  of  his  messenger,  seemed  to  have  drawn  nearei 
to  the  cliff. 

44  What  do  I mane  ?" 

44  Yes.  I don’t  understand  you.  Come  back,  if  my  de- 
mands be  not  complied  with." 

44  But,  Misther  Mody,  me  time’s  up  long  ago,  and  I’m 
not  going  back  to  be  roasted  alive.  I’m  comfortable  here, 
taking  care  o’  the  ladies,  and  I shan’t  lave  ’em  as  long  as 
they  nade  a protictor." 

44  That’s  very  kind  in  you,  Paddy,"  said  Kate.  44  But, 
bless  me,  they’re  firing  at  us !’’ 

This  was  true.  More  than  a score  of  guns  were  dis- 
charged at  the  hut  and  the  cliff;  and  some  of  the  balls,  as 


m 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


if  attracted  by  Paddy’s  voice,  bespattered  the  face  of  the 
rock,  sending  dust  and  scales  into  his  face,  which  stung  him 
smartly. 

u Who’re  ye  shooting  at,  ye  nasty  blackguards?”  cried 
Paddy.  44  Have  ye  no  betther  manners  than  to  be  pointing 
yer  falthy  irons  toward  the  young  ladies?” 

44  Come  in,  Paddy!”  said  Julia.  44  Don’t  you  hear  their 
feet  approaching?” 

44  If  you  command  it,  I must  obey,”  said  Paddy,  duck- 
ing his  head  at  the  flash  of  another  volley,  and  rejoining 
the  party  in  the  large  apartment,  where  the  aged  exile  sat 
in  undisturbed  composure. 

44  They’ll  niver  find  us  here,”  said  Paddy;  44  and  if  it 
wasn’t  for  the  Tories  the  Indians  wud  soon  lave  us.  They’re 
great  cowards.” 

44  Cowards,  Paddy?”  said  Kate. 

44  Yds,  indade — cowards.  I’ll  tell  ye  how  I put  a whole 

party  to  flight  meself ; but  I mustn’t  tell  ye ” 

44  What  ? Do,  Paddy,  give  us  a narrative  of  your  ad- 
ventures to-day,”  said  Julia. 

44 1 must  lave  out  the  bloody  part.  Yer  sinsitive  narves 
couldn’t  stand  it.” 

44  Very  well — go  on.  But,  first,  tell  me  where  Rose  is.” 
44  Rose  ! Rose,  is  it  ? Did  ye  say  Rose,  or  Solo  ?” 

44  Solo  is  asleep  on  his  couch  of  leaves.  He  is  safe.  But 
what  has  become  of  Rose?” 

44  I’ll  tell  ye  when  I’m  done.  Forty  of  ’em  came  to  the 
house,  and  were  afther  sculping  all  they  could  lay  hands 

on,  Misther  and  Misthress  Schooley  and ” 

44  Mercy  ! You  don’t  mean- ” 

44  No,  I don’t  mane  to  say  ony  sich  thing.  But  they 
intinded  to  kill  ’em  if  I hadn’t  riscued  ’em.” 

44  And  how  did  you  accomplish  that?” 

44  Ye  saa,  I was  up  in  the  loft  of  the  waiving-room, 
whin ” 

44  Pray  tell  us  how  you  happened  to  be  there,”  said  Kate. 
44  How  ? How,  is  it  ? But  that’s  nayther  here  nor 
there.  It  was  the  luckiest  thing  in  the  world.  For  they 
brought  in  Misther  and  Misthress  Schooley,  after  they  had 

tomahawked  Dinah  before  me  eyes  as  she  was  waiving ” 

44  Oh,  Pad-dy  ! why  did  you  permit  them  ?” 

44  Wait  a moment,  and  ye  shall  hear.  It  wasn’t  good 


SECOND  SERIES. 


309 


policy  to  interfare.  If  I had  stopped  ’em,  they’d’ve  kilt 
the  ould  white  folks.  I waited  in  silence,  looking  down  in 
revinge.  But  when  the  tomahawks  were  lifted  against  the 
vinerable  heads  of  Misther  and  Misthress  Schooley,  I 
plunged  down  upon  ’em,  calling  upon  the  saints  to  help 
me  ! I called  so  many,  the  yaller  divils  thought  I had  a 
whole  ragiment  at  me  back.  They  ran  off,  and  I say  they 
are  a pack  of  cowards  !” 

“Now,  Paddy,  tell  me  about  Rose.” 

-“  Could  ye  bear  it  ? And  are  ye  prepared  to  hear  the 
worst  ?” 

44  Oh,  yes  ! She  would  linger,  to  hunt  some  article  of 
clothing  ! Poor  Rose  !” 

“She  killed  an  Indian  as  dead  as  a hammer!” 

“ Rose !” 

44  Her  arm  was  as  thick  as  a traa,  and  as  strong  as  an 
elephant’s  trunk.  They  threw  a tomahawk  at  her,  which 
struck  the  bundle  of  clothes.  They  were  spylt,  but  they 
saved  her.  So  she  tuk  up  the  hatchet  and  chapped  one  of 
their  heads  in  two.” 

44  Paddy,  is  that  so  ?” 

“ I’ll  take  me  oath  on  it !” 

“ And  so  Rose  was  saved  !’ 

44  I hope  so.  But  I don’t  saa  how  it  could  be,  aither, 
for  she  had  no  praist.” 

46  Priest  ? Didn’t  you  say  she  was  saved  ?” 

“From  the  tomahawk.  But  her  clothes  couldn’t  turn 
the  rifle-bullets.  They  shot  her,  and  she’s  defunct.” 

“ Oh,  poor  Rose  !” 

46  She  died  widout  a sthruggle,  as  Misthress  Schooley  in- 
formed me ; and,  as  she  didn’t  scrame,  we  may  belave  she 
suffered  no  pain.  Don’t  wape,  Miss  Julia.  Consider  what 
you’ d’ve  done  if  it  had  been  yerself,  and  be  thankful  it 
was  no  worse.” 

44  Oh,  they  are  burning  the  house !”  cried  Kate,  hearing 
the  roaring  of  flames  and  the  yells  of  the  assailants. 

The  aged  recluse,  awakened  from  his  reverie,  turned  his 
calm  countenance  toward  the  young  ladies,  and  besought 
them  not  to  be  alarmed.  - 

44  You  can  now  comprehend,”  said  he,  smiling,  * why  the 
exile  did  not  build  a better  house  in  the  valley.  It  was 


810 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


quite  good  enough  to  burn,  and  it  was  foreseen  that  such 
would  be  its  fate.” 

“There!”  cried  Julia;  “one  of  the  Indians  has  been 
killed  by  somebody.  I heard  the  death-halloo !” 

“ Probably  a shaft  from  one  of  my  brave  Scots  posted 
overhead.  They  cannot  bear  to  see  my  poor  house,  worth- 
less as  it  is,  destroyed  by  my  enemies.” 

“ Mercy  on  us  !”  cried  Kate  ; “ and  what  is  that  ?” 

“ Another  familiar  sound  !”  said  Julia.  “ It  is  the  awful 
signal  of  blood !” 

“It  seems  to  me  like  the  braying  of  an  ass,”  said  the 
old  man. 

“And  yer  ears  don’t  desave  ye,”  said  Paddy.  “Wan 
of  Quane  Asther’s  guards,  who  follers  us  from  wan  end  of 
creation  to  anither,  rides  on  a jackass  that  brays  like  the 
divil  ivery  time  he  smells  blood.  I hope  the  blackguard 
the  Scots  have  kilt  is  that  same  murthering  Seneca  wolf.” 

“ And  can  they  not  mount  to  the  summit  of  the  cliff  and 
slay  the  poor  Scots?”  asked  Kate. 

“They  might  gain  the  summit,”  said  Mr.  Cameron, 
“ but  it  would  then  be  deserted.  My  men  have  holes,  like 
foxes,  to  hide  in.” 

“Be  me  faith!”  cried  Paddy,  “but  they’ll  find ’em ! 
The  Indians  know  how  to  hunt  the  foxes.  They’ll  mount 
up  to  the  top  of  the  house  and  come  down  on  us.  Thirty 
to  one  ! And  it  was  Paddy  who  forgot  there  was  any  top 
to  the  Tower  Lock !” 

“Your  alarm  is  needless,”  said  the  old  man.  “It  is  a 
solid  rock.  Long  before  they  can  cut  through  my  roof, 
nearly  two  hundred  feet  in  depth,  my  son  will  be  here.” 

“ Thrue,  yer  honour,”  said  Paddy,  reassured.  “And 
I’m  sure  I trust  the  walls  are  strong  enough  to  support 
such  a roof  as  that.” 

Another  fatal  shaft  from  the  summit  was  announced  by 
the  furious  yells  and  maledictions  of  the  besiegers,  and  it 
was  succeeded  by  a general  discharge  of  their  pieces  at  the 
precipitous  face  of  the  rock.  The  altitude  from  which 
Paddy  had  spoken  to  Moody  betrayed  the  locality  of  the 
besieged,  and  the  mystery  of  the  means  of  escape  from  the 
smouldering  tenement  was,  in  part,  explained.  It  was 
announced  by  Moody  to  his  followers  that  the  refugee  had 
retired  into  a cave  whose  entrance  had  hitherto  escaped 


SECOND  SERIES. 


311 


discovery ; but  he  doubted  not  they  would  soon  find  it, 
when  the  rich  treasure,  so  often  dwelt  upon  in  his  speeches, 
and  which  had  excited  the  cupidity  of  his  company,  would 
be  divided  among  them. 

Fortunately  the  mass  of  glowing  embers  deposited  by 
the  consumed  hut  prevented  an  immediate  approach  to  the 
only  place  of  ingress.  Nor  was  it  likely  that  the  besiegers 
would  suspect  an  orifice  had  been  cut  in  the  solid  base  of 
the  cliff.  They  would  rather  look  for  an  excavation  under 
the  hut,  supposing  the  diminutive  habitation  had  been 
erected  over  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  And,  impelled  by 
this  idea,  the  greater  portion  of  the  Tories  and  Indians 
were  soon  engaged  in  removing  the  smouldering  rubbish 
from  the  earth,  but  still  failed  to  perceive  the  entrance  at 
the  fireplace.  The  rest  were  dispersed  in  various  direc- 
tions, seeking  the  foe  who  winged  the  fatal  shafts. 

Another  terrific  yell  announced  some  new  event.  Kate 
and  Julia  clung  tremblingly  to  the  aged  chief,  while  Paddy 
turned  pale  and  glanced  toward  the  darkest  recesses  of 
the  room. 

“Fear  not,  my  children/’  said  Lochiel ; “there  is  no 
danger.  There  is  but  one  avenue  of  approach,  and  that  a 
child  might  successfully  defend.  There  are  caves  also  en- 
tering into  these  chambers,  which  I have  recently  opened. 
But  they  are  dark,  and  seemingly  interminable.  I have 
explored  them,  and  do  not  think  they  lead  to  the  surface 
anywhere.” 

“I  saw  the  dark  howls,”  said  Paddy.  “And  we  can 
hide  in  ’em  if  they  find  us  hore.” 

“We  must  defend  the  passage,”  said  the  exile,  “if  they 
discover  the  door.  Listen  ! I understand  it  now.  Some 
one  has  discovered  whence  the  shafts  of  my  faithful  Scots 
are  launched.  Hark ! They  are  rushing  up  the  valley  to 
attain  the  summit.  But  my  eagles  will  have  flown  when 
they  reach  their  eyrie.  There  are  innumerable  crags, 
moss-covered  fissures,  brambles  and  cedars ; and  my  trusty 
clansmen  are  familiar  with  the  hiding-places.  Be  not 
alarmed,  dear  lassies ; the  old  chief  will  answer  for  your 
safety.  Go  to  your  couch  and  rest  in  peace.” 

Julia  and  Kate,  yielding  to  the  desire  of  the  aged  chief, 
retired  for  the  night.  The  old  man,  left  alone,  with  pro- 
found indifference  to  the  machinations  of  his  foes,  opened 


812 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


the  volume  before  him,  and  dwelt  in  rapture  on  the  pages 
of  the  inspired  poet. 

Paddy  was  endeavouring  to  sleep  on  a bed  of  rushes  in 
a corner  near  the  aperture  of  one  of  the  recently-opened 
passages  in  the  rock.  Into  this  cave  it  was  his  deter- 
mination to  plunge  if  they  should  be  surprised  before 
morning. 

His  recent  fatigues  and  excitements  soon  caused  him  to 
succumb  to  the  approaches  of  slumber.  But  he  made  many 
fitful  starts  and  exclamations  in  his  dreams.  And  once  he 
was  roused  upon  feeling  his  cheek  strangely  fanned.  He 
lifted  his  head  and  gazed  round;  and  his  heart  palpitated 
audibly  when  he  beheld,  a short  distance  from  him,  twe 
luminous  globes,  the  staring  eyes  of  some  frightful  visitant. 
He  turned  over  and  groped  in  a circle  round  the  object  of 
his  terror.  But  the  eyes  turned  too,  still  fixed  steadily  on 
him. 

The  aged  chief  continued  to  bend  over  the  volume, 
while  the  lamp  flickered  dimly,  and  Paddy  crept  noiselessly 
to  his  side. 

“Plase  yer  honour  !”  said  Paddy. 

“ Wecl !”  said  the  chief,  slowly  lifting  his  head. 

“ Plase  yer  honour,  look  yonder  ! It’s  the  divil !” 

“ Ye  kenna  what  it  is,  mon ! Why  should  the  de’il  come 
hither  ? Why  should  we  fear  him  ? Gae  to  bed.  That  is 
ane  of  my  owls,  hunting  the  mice.  And  if  you  see  a lizard, 
do  not  be  alarmed,  nor  seek  to  injure  it.  Such  creatures 
are  better  companions  than  ungrateful  men.” 

Paddy,  reassured  both  by  the  words  and  looks  of  the 
chief,  returned  to  his  couch. 

Without,  a solitary  Indian  stood  by  the  crystal  stream 
near  the  base  of  the  cliff.  He  peered  through  the  darkness 
at  the  place  whence  Paddy’s  voice  had  proceeded,  in  height 
some  twenty  feet,  and,  through  entangled  bush  and  creeper, 
distinguished  the  rays  of  the  lamp  within  as  they  shot 
feebly  upward  in  empty  space.  Lochiel  was  too  thoughtful 
to  permit  them  to  reach  rock  or  tree  so  as  to  betray  his 
locality;  but  the  Indian  had  perceived  them  in  the  atmo- 
sphere. He  stood  with  folded  arms,  gazing  with  direful 
intent.  Near  him,  on  the  margin  of  the  water  and  oppo- 
site the  cliff,  was  a tall  hickory-sapling.  The  dusky  son 
of  the  forest,  when  he  removed  his  eyes  from  the  leafy 


SECOND  SERIES. 


313 


aperture  in  the  cliff,  gazed  steadfastly  at  the  young  tree. 
After  measuring  its  height  as  well  as  possible  in  the  obscu- 
rity, he  divested  himself  of  his  rattling  beads,  wampum, 
and  silver  plates,  and  placed  them  beside  his  gun  on  the 
ground.  A strong  buffalo  thong,  taken  from  his  leathern 
pouch,  was  wrapped  loosely  round  his  neck.  He  then 
climbed  the  tree,  as  a sailor  would  a mast.  There  were  no 
branches  near  the  ground,  and  his  ascent  was  unimpeded 
until  he  reached  a height  equal  to  that  of  the  aperture  in 
the  cliff. 

After  pausing  a few  moments  and  gazing  fixedly  at  the 
dimly-illuminated  fissure,  during  which  neither  sound  nor 
motion  could  be  distinguished  within,  he  proceeded  upward, 
even  when  the  stem  of  the  sapling  was  no  greater  in 
diameter  than  his  arm,  and  swayed  to  and  fro  with  his 
weight.  Keeping  his  back  on  the  side  next  the  cliff,  he 
continued  to  ascend,  until,  arching  over  the  running  stream, 
the  topmost  bough  of  the  tree  rested  against  the  face  of  the 
cliff.  The  Indian  made  it  fast  to  a point  of  rock  which 
projected  over  the  vine-masked  balcony,  and  then,  softly 
detaching  himself,  obtained  a lodgment  in  the  rift  where 
Paddy  had  been  standing.  Perfectly  motionless,  he 
listened  for  many  moments  ; but,  neither  sound  of  voice  nor 
motion  of  feet  being  detected,  he  entered  the  chamber. 

Guided  by  the  light  of  the  lamp,  he  approached  the 
table  where  the  white-haired  exile  still  lingered  over  the 
entrancing  pages  of  the  poet.  He  gazed  cautiously  round, 
and,  perceiving  no  one  else  in  the  apartment,  glided  noise- 
lessly toward  the  table,  his  glittering  tomahawk  brandished 
in  his  hand.  The  old  man,  unconscious  of  his  approach, 
was  smiling  sweetly.  This  the  savage  perceived,  and 
paused.  Why  should  he  smile  ? Was  it  an  ambuscade  he 
had  plunged  into  ? Certainly  not ; for  the  Kacha  Manito 
and  not  man  had  made  the  hickory-tree.  But  might  not 
the  exile  be  a magician  or  great  prophet?  Again  he 
paused.  No!  If  so,  why  seek  security  within  the  rock? 

Raising  his  tomahawk  once  more,  the  Indian  stepped  for- 
ward and  aimed  the  fatal  blow;  but  his  arm  was  arrested 
midway  by  the  teeth  of  Solo,  who  had  been  lying  in  the 
dark  shadow  of  the  protector  of  his  mistress.  The  weapon 
fell  clanging  upon  the  stone  floor.  Releasing  the  arm,  and 
twice  barking  sharply,  the  faithful  dog  grappled  the  throat 

27 


814 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


of  the  Indian  arid  bore  him  to  the  earth.  The  girls, 
awakened  by  the  sound,  sprang  up,  screaming  hysterically, 
for  they  believed  the  place  to  be  in  the  possession  of  the 
enemy.  But,  seeing  no  one  near,  they  ran  toward  the  lamp, 
still  flickering  on  the  table  in  the  adjoining  apartment. 
There  they  beheld  the  aged  exile  rising  slowly  from  his 
great  chair,  with  a finger  on  the  page,  that  the  place  might 
not  be  lost.  At  his  feet  stood  Solo  over  the  prostrate  In- 
dian, who  breathed  with  difficulty  under  the  pressure  of  the 
faithful  animals  jaws. 

“What  is  it?  who  is  it?”  exclaimed  Julia. 

“Bless  my  life!”  said  the  old  man,  “it  is  an  Indian! ' 
How  did  he  find  access  ?” 

“It  is,  indeed!”  said  Julia,  thrusting  away  the  toma- 
hawk with  her  foot,  and  ordering  Solo  to  relax  his  hold. 

“ It  is  one  of  the  terrible  Queen  Esther’s  guards — one  of 
my  captors — and  the  chief  who  wounded  Solo ! It  is  a 
just  retribution.” 

“The  noble  animal  has  saved  my  life,  lassie,”  said  the 
old  man,  reluctantly  withdrawing  his  finger  from  the  page. 

“ It  was  not  so  much  revenge  for  the  injury  he  had  sus- 
tained, as  the  generous  impulse  to  rescue  me  from  death. 
Noble  dog  ! Cherish  him,  Julia,  my  bonnie  daughter !” 

“ Oh,  I shall  certainly  do  so !”  said  Julia,  bending  over 
the  Indian,  whose  breathing  became  easier  under  the  re- 
laxed pressure.  “ See  how  bloody  !”  she  continued.  “ I 
would  not  have  him  die.  He  might  recover.  He  is  a 
Mingo  or  Minisink  chief.” 

“Do  you  surrender?”  asked  the  aged  chief.  The  In- 
dian, still  speechless,  nevertheless  comprehended  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words,  and  lifted  up  his  hands  beseechingly. 

“Where’s  the  Irishman ?”  asked  the  old  man.  “Let 
him  bind  his  hands.” 

“Paddy!  Where  are  you,  Paddy?”  cried  Julia  and 
Kate,  but  no  Paddy  answered.  They  sought  his  couch, 
and  found  his  bed  of  rushes,  but  Paddy  himself  had  van- 
ished ; and  so  they  returned  to  the  old  man  and  his  captive, 
the  latter  being  narrowly  watched  by  Solo. 

“ Stand  up,”  said  Mr.  Cameron,  placing  his  foot  against 
the  savage,  “and  tell  me  how  you  got  into  my  house.” 

Tim  Indian  was  soon  sufficiently  recovered  to  give  the 
information  demanded.  He  could  speak  enough  English 


MR.  CAMERON  AND  THE  MINGO  CHIEF.— P.  314. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


815 


to  make  himself  imperfectly  understood,  and  his  gestures 
did  the  rest.  The  tree  was  remembered,  but  no  one  had 
ever  thought  it  could  be  made  the  means  of  gaining  access 
to  the  apartments ; and  the  old  man  smiled  at  the  ingenuity 
of  the  savage,  and  felt  satisfied  that  his  little  fortress  was 
well  enough  guarded  at  all  other  points,  and  was  not  likely 
to  have  many  assailants  from  the  quarter  whence  the  In- 
dian had  found  an  entrance. 

“ Pronounce  his  doom,  my  bonnie  lassies, ” said  the  aged 
chief,  drawing  forth  a pistol  from  beneath  his  chair. 

“ Oil,  do  not  kill  him!”  exclaimed  the  girls.  “ He  may 
become  a friend,  if  his  life  be  spared.” 

“ He  has  penetrated  my  secret.  His  eyes  are  even  now 
glancing  at  my  little  wealth  scattered  about  the  room ” 

“Still,  it  will  be  out  of  their  power  to  reach  us.  They 
will  retire  to  their  own  country,  and  you  will  not  be  molested 
again!”  said  Julia,  pleading  for  the  life  of  the  captive. 

“ I have  no  pleasure  in  slaying  my  foes,  my  dear  chil- 
dren,” said  the  old" man,  replacing  the  pistol.  “Lead  him 
to  the  balcony,  and  tell  him  he  is  free.” 

The  savage  understood  him,  and  offered  his  hand  in 
token  of  gratitude.  It  was  not  refused  by  the  exile,  who, 
a moment  after,  resumed  his  seat,  and  was  once  more  bend- 
ing over  the  volume. 

Julia  motioned  the  savage  to  retire  toward  the  balcony, 
while  Kate  and  herself,  preceded  by  Solo,  followed  his  steps. 
He  cast  a wistful  glance  at  his  tomahawk  lying  near  the 
feet  of  the  exile,  but  did  not  stoop  to  pick  it  up,  for  the 
teeth  of  his  vanquisher  were  still  visible. 

The  enfranchised  Indian,  by  his  looks  and  gestures,  ex- 
pressed to  the  young  ladies  the  thanks  his  tongue  could  not 
utter.  And  when  he  reached  the  aperture,  through  which 
the  early  gleams  of  day  were  now  struggling,  he  extended 
his  hand  to  each  of  them,  and  bade  them  a grateful  adieu. 
The  next  moment  he  had  vanished,  having  descended  the 
tree  without  detaching  its  top  from  the  rock. 

Then  it  was,  and  just  as  Julia  and  Kate  turned  back  to 
seek  their  couch  in  the  dim  obscurity,  that  the  face  of 
Paddy  became  visible. 

“Who's  that?”  cried  Kate. 

“It  is  Paddy!”  said  Julia. 

Why  are  you  so  pale?” 


“ Where  have  you  been  J 


316 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


“Pale,  is  it?  It’s  rage — it’s  hate — I’m  furious,  because 
you  lit  him  go.  I wud’ve  sculped  the  blackguard  !” 

“Why  were  you  not  present,  Paddy,  Avhen  we  were  de- 
ciding his  fate  ?” 

“ Och,  and  if  I wasn’t  there,  I couldn’t  help  it.  It  was 
no  fault  of  mine,  Miss  Julia.  I sprung  up  when  the  dog 
barked,  thinking  the  whole  gang  was  on  us.  I was  half 
aslape,  and  couldn’t  saa  objects  distinctly;  and  so  I got 
into  the  dark  hole,  where  I couldn’t  behowld  me  hand  be- 
fore me  eyes.  There  I stood  with  me  knife  and  gun,  think- 
ing the  savages  had  got  in  that  way,  and  detarmined  to 
defind  the  passage  to  the  last  dhrop  of  me  blood.  And 
this  explanation,  I hope,  ye  will  repate  for  me  to  the  owld 
chafe.” 

And,  saying  this,  Paddy  likewise  returned  to  his  couch. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

DESPERATE  ATTEMPT — THE  PANTHER  AND  THE  EAGLE. 

The  rising  of  the  sun,  its  crimson  rays  streaming  over 
the  misty  summits  of  the  mountains,  was  the  signal  for  a 
renewal  of  the  fierce  shouts  of  the  implacable  enemy. 

A portion  of  the  besiegers  had  ascended  to  the  summit 
of  the  cliff.  But  the  small  band  of  defenders  posted  there 
the  preceding  day  had  vanished.  Yet  Moody  congratu- 
lated himself  upon  the  occupancy  of  positions  which  were 
calculated  to  effect  his  diabolical  purpose.  The  besieged 
could  not  escape  without  falling  into  his  hands,  nor  could 
succour  reach  them  without  first  entering  his  ambuscade. 

The  aged  chief,  unmindful  of  the  machinations  of  his  foes, 
again  entertained  the  maidens  with  anecdotes  of  Charles 
Edward  after  the  disaster  at  Culloden,  and  described  par- 
ticularly the  conduct  of  Flora  Macdonald,  exhibiting  her 
miniature  executed  in  Paris;  and  the  admiration  of  the 
girls  was  not  diminished  by  the  assurance  that  Flora,  like 
Ltchiel  himself,  was  at  that  moment  sojourning  in  America. 

But  Paddy’s  views  could  not  be  confined  within  the 
narrow  limits  of  his  rock-bound  habitation.  And  so  ho 


SECOND  SERIES. 


317 


wandered  to  the  balcony,  and  peeped  out  from  behind  the 
ivy-vines  and  cedar-bushes. 

A single  glance  sufficed  to  appal  him.  A dozen  Tories 
and  Indians  were  grouped  around  the  slender  sapling,  the 
topmost  bough  of  which  still  remained  attached  to  the 
point  of  jutting  rock,  bound  by  the  strong  cord  of  buffalo- 
hide. 

They  stood  in  silent  wonder  or  whispered  consultation, 
heedless  of  the  dangerous  proximity  of  the  besieged*  But 
no  shot  had  been  fired  at  them  in  the  night,  and  it  was  in- 
ferred the  old  man  had  no  arms,  or  was,  like  the  Moravians 
and  Quakers,  averse  to  shedding  blood.  It  did  not  occur 
to  them  that  one  of  their  own  number  (the  Indian  who  had 
ascended  the  tree  being  absent)  had  used  the  sapling  to 
gain  access  to  the  masked  opening  in  the  cliff,  which,  from 
the  location  of  Paddy  in  the  night  when  declaring  the  de- 
cision of  the  aged  chief,  they  were  now  convinced  commu- 
nicated with  the  cave  that  contained  the  victims  they  had 
doomed  to  destruction. 

“ Some  one  of  their  friends  got  in  during  the  night,” 
said  Moody.  “ And  if  a white  man  can  enter,  why  can’t 
an  Indian  ?” 

This  'was  succeeded  by  “ughs!”  of  approbation,  and 
several  of  the  Senecas  volunteered  to  make  the  attempt. 
At  that  moment  the  Indian  who  had  climbed  the  tree  joined 
them ; and,  as  he  was  a famous  adventurer,  and  one  of  the 
bravest  men  of  the  party,  Moody  was  surprised  to  see  him 
sit  down  and  muse  in  silence. 

“ Will  you  not  go  first?”  he  asked. 

“No!  Me  no  go!”  was  the  abrupt  response.  And 
Moody  turned  away,  and  bestowed  his  praises  on  the  in- 
trepid chief  already  ascending. 

“ Misther  Cameron  ! Misther  Cameron  !”  cried  Paddy, 
rushing  into  the  presence  of  the  old  man. 

“ Weel  ? Speak,  mon.” 

“ Plase  yer  honour,  I want  a gun  or  a pisthol.  They’re 
standing  down  there  by  the  strame,  and  in  full  view  o’  me, 
and  I want  to  give  ’em  a broadside  from  the  balcony.” 

“ Pooh  ! And  why  ? Why  would  you  shed  their  blude  ? 
Ane  or  twTa  more  or  less  will  make  na  difference.  Be  mer- 
ciful, mon,  and  save  thy  valour  for  the  moment  when  fight- 
ing is  necessary.  You  shall  not  disturb  them.” 

27* 


318 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


And,  turning  to  the  girls,  the  old  man  resumed  his  nar- 
rative with  perfect  unconcern.  But  he  had  not  proceeded 
far  before  Paddy  returned,  pale  and  trembling. 

“ Misther  Cameron  ! They’re  coming  ! They’ll  be  here 
in  a minute  ! They’re  climbing  in  at  the  winder  ! We’ll 
be  murthered !” 

“ Don’t  be  alarmed,  my  children,”  said  the  old  man, 
rising.  “ The  thong  must  be  cut,  and  then  they  will 
desist.;’ 

“ Let  Paddy  do  it !”  said  Julia.  “ Do  not  go  yourself, 
sir  !” 

“Plase  yer  honour,”  said  Paddy,  quickly,  “ me  knife’s 
too  dull !” 

“ Take  my  dirk,”  said  Mr.  Cameron,  offering  the  polished 
blade. 

“ And  plase  let  me  have  the  loan  of  yer  pisthol,  for  fear 
wan  of  ’em  may  be  in.” 

“ And  Solo  shall  accompany  you,”  said  Julia. 

Paddy  returned  cautiously  and  reluctantly  to  the  balcony, 
accompanied  by  the  girls  and  followed  by  Solo.  The  In- 
dian had  not  reached  the  face  of  the  cliff,  but  was  within 
a few  feet  of  it,  and  making  rapid  progress  in  the  perilous 
ascent.  By  a spasmodic  effort,  Paddy,  after  giving  the 
pistol  to  Julia,  succeeded  in  severing  the  cord.  The  elastic 
sapling  sprang  back  to  its  original  position,  and  hurled  the 
adventurous  climber  some  fifty  feet  into  the  brushwood, 
through  which  he  plunged  with  great  force,  crashing 
among  the  boughs,  and  finally  fell  to  the  earth,  amid 
the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  spectators. 

The  Indian,  unhurt,  but  greatly  exasperated,  emerged 
from  the  bushes,  and  threw7  his  tomahawk  in  the  direction 
of  the  half-concealed  aperture. 

“ Dodge!”  cried  Paddy,  falling  down  on  his  knees, 
while  the  girls,  supposing  a volley  was  about  being  fired  at 
them,  involuntarily  followed  his  example ; and  the  next  in- 
stant the  tomahawrk,  glancing  from  the  side  of  the  orifice, 
fell  harmless  at  their  feet. 

Moody  soon  after  announced  to  his  followers  that  he  had 
conceived  a plan  by  which  they  could  obtain  an  entrance. 
And  w7hen  he  explained  his  scheme  the  whoops  of  the 
savages  were  almost  deafening.  They  were  seen  running 
fn  different  directions  and  gathering  materials  for  the  fabri- 


SECONP  SERIES. 


319 


cation  of  a rope  of  sufficient  length  and  strength  to  convey 
rhe  men  from  the  summit  of  the  cliff*  down  to  the  opening 
that  had  been  discovered  in  its  side.  This  was  speedily 
accomplished,  for  the  Indians  have  nimble  fingers;  and 
their  exultant  halloo,  the  meaning  of  which  Julia  perfectly 
comprehended,  burst  upon  the  air  and  was  reverberated  in 
the  valleys. 

The  great  cable,  composed  of  hempen  strings,  hair,  and 
hi  les,  was  tied  to  a rock  on  the  apex  of  the  cliff  and  within 
a few  feet  of  the  edge  of  the  precipice.  Here  the  scene 
was  wild  in  the  extreme.  A few  cedars  and  thorns,  dwarfed 
in  their  growth  for  the  want  of  soil,  from  exposure  to  the 
chilling  blasts  of  winter  and  the  excessive  heats  of  summer, 
comprised  the  sparse  vegetation  of  the  spot,  which  seemed 
a locality  never  designed  for  the  presence  of  man,  savage 
or  civilized.  But  now,  like  demons  of  mischief,  the  fell  In- 
dians and  Tories,  their  faces  bathed  in  the  red  rays  of  the 
morning  sun,  flitted  hither  and  thither  on  the  dreary  apex 
of  the  summit,  making  the  solitary  place  more  hideous  by 
their  whoops  and  grimaces. 

The  summit  of  the  cliff  jutted  over  its  base,  so  that  those 
above,  who  were  to  lower  their  companions,  could  not  see 
the  aperture.  Therefore  the  party  was  divided,  one  half 
remaining  below,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  their  loudly- 
shouted  communications. 

It  was  decided  that  the  cable  should  reach  down  to  the 
stream  below,  to  be  ascended  or  descended,  as  might  be  the 
most  practicable  and  advantageous. 

The  first  Indian  who  ventured  over  the  precipice  was 
furiously  assailed  by  an  enormous  eagle,  having  its  nest 
on  one  of  the  ledges  or  shelves  inaccessible  to  all  animals 
not  possessing  wings  or  incapable  of  suspending  themselves 
in  mid-air.  The  brave  bird,  seeing  the  dusky  savage  ap- 
proaching its  young,  uttered  a shrill  scream  and  darted  at 
him,  and  the  Indian’s  head-dress  of  feathers  and  tinsel  was 
scattered  in  fragments  on  the  wind.  Descending  again 
like  a bolt  from  a thundercloud,  the  eagle  ripped  open  with 
his  beak  and  talons  the  skin  on  the  shaven  crown  of  the 
invader  of  his  domestic  precincts.  A cry  of  pain  startled 
the  spectators,  and  the  next  moment  the  suspended  savage 
relaxed  his  grasp  and  fell  headlong  into  the  shallow  stream 
beneath,  upon  whose  bed  of  rocks  his  body  was  crushed 


220 


WILD  WESTERN  scenes: 


like  the  flattened  ball  of  a rifle  against  a flint-stone ! A 
cry  of  horror  escaped  the  lips  of  Julia  and  Kate,  who  wit- 
nessed the  occurrence  from  the  masked  balcony,  themselves 
unseen.  The  friends  of  the  unlucky  Indian  rushed  for- 
ward and  dragged  his  mangled  corpse  from  the  water. 
A broken  shaft  of  an  arrow  floating  down  the  current 
attracted  no  attention,  or  was  supposed  to  have  belonged 
to  the  unfortunate  adventurer.  His  body  was  covered 
with  wounds,  and  no  minute  examination  was  instituted,  as 
the  fall  alone  had  been  sufficient  to  produce  death. 

A second  Indian  descended  the  cable,  and, — although  un- 
touched by  the  eagle,  which,  however,  did  not  cease  to  dart 
at  his  head,  in  defiance  of  the  shots  fired  at  him, — like  the 
first,  and  precisely  at  the  same  place,  uttered  the  death- 
shriek,  and  fell  upon  the  same  rock  at  the  bottom  of  the 
shallow  stream. 

This  time  the  shaft  remained  in  the  body,  and  a yell  of 
rage  succeeded  the  discovery.  But  from  whence  had  it 
been  fired  ? They  did  not  suppose  it  possible  for  the  Scots 
to  go  over  the  edge  of  the  precipice  and  find  a lodgment  in 
its  face.  Nor  was  it  possible.  But  there  were  hidden  paths 
at  the  extremity  of  the  cliff,  leading  along  the  shelves  on 
its  front.  With  these  the  Scots  were  familiar ; and  these 
narrow  paths  were  soon  discovered  by  the  Indians,  burning 
more  furiously  than  ever  for  revenge.  But  it  was  a fearful 
place, — a dizzy  height, — netted  over  in  some  places  by 
creepers  and  stunted  brambles,  with  ever  and  anon  dwarf 
cedars  growing  out  of  the  fissures  whose  only  soil  was  the 
decomposed  leaves  blown  thither. 

A general  search  for  the  hidden  foe  ensued.  All  other 
enterprises  were  suspended.  Like  trained  bloodhounds,  the 
Indians  sought  and  found  the  trail  of  the  three  or  four 
clansmen,  sole  defenders  of  the  chief  who  had,  in  his  native 
land,  commanded  a thousand. 

Shouts  of  demoniac  joy  announced  the  discovery.  Two 
or  three  of  the  boldest  Indians  precipitately  followed  it, 
unheeding  the  advice  of  the  more  aged  and  experienced 
warriors,  who  would  have  had  a consultation  upon  the  best 
mode  of  dislodging  the  enemy. 

On  they  rushed,  leaping  over  rifts  and  holding  by  the 
tenacious  cedars,  when  their  progress  was  suddenly  arrested 
by  the  ferocious  growl  of  a panther,  whose  head  protruded 


SECOND  SERIES. 


321 


from  a small  cave  in  the  rock  beside  the  path  and  but  a 
few  paces  before  them  !” 

‘w  Ugh  \ ugh !”  each  of  the  Indians  uttered  in  turn,  on 
beholding  the  glaring  eyes  of  the  beast.  The  growl  had 
likewise  been  heard  by  those  below,  watching  the  progress 
of  the  young  warriors.  And  when  they  beheld  the  head 
of  the  animal  thrust  from  the  rock,  they  fired  and  wounded 
him.  He  sprang  forward  with  a cry  of  rage,  and,  seizing 
the  foremost  of  the  Indians  in  the  narrow  path,  they  fell 
together  on  the  rocks  beneath,  both  mangled  and  dead. 

At  this  juncture  a warwhoop  was  heard  in  a westerly 
direction.  Moody  and  the  Senecas  listened  with  suspended 
breath  for  its  repetition,  not  having  immediately  compre- 
hended its  import  amid  the  confusion  of  sounds.  They 
knew  not  whether  to  look  for  friends  or  enemies.  They 
were  aware  that  the  remnant  of  the  company  of  patriots 
from  that  vicinity  which  might  survive  the  slaughter  in  the 
valleys  of  Pennsylvania  would  soon  arrive  to  the  succour 
of  the  besieged.  They  had  been  assured,  however,  by 
Queen  Esther  and  Brandt  and  Walter  Butler,  that  but  few 
of  that  little  band  would  escape ; and,  whatever  might  be 
the  number  of  survivors,  they  would  be  quickly  followed, 
and  perhaps  preceded,  by  Brandt  himself  and  the  implaca- 
ble Queen  of  the  Senecas. 

But  the  warwhoop  was  not  repeated.  Moody  and  his 
men  immediately  posted  themselves  in  the  passes  of  the 
intersecting  valleys  to  defend  the  approaches  to  the  cliff. 

This  was  hardly  accomplished,  when  the  aged  chieftain, 
hastily  closing  the  book  from  which  he  had  been  reading 
aloud  to  his  fair  auditors,  while  Paddy  slumbered  in  obli- 
vious security,  announced  the  approach  of  Charles. 

“ Thank  heaven  !”  exclaimed  Julia  ; “ but  how  have  you 
learned  it  ?” 

uMy  bonnie  lassie  kens  not  the  meaning  of  the  air 
played  on  the  horn  by  my  brave  clansman  hidden  in  the 
cliff.  The  young  chief  advances ! My  boy  survives,  and 
I shall  once  more  clasp  him  in  my  arms !” 

“ Thank  heaven!’’  repeated  Julia.  “ But,  sir,  are  we 
not  here  surrounded  by  the  enemy?  And  may  he  not  fall 
before  our  eyes  ?” 

“ He  will  sweep  them  away  like  the  mist  of  the  morning! 
Our  cage  will  be  opened,  and  my  pretty  birds  will  bask 


322 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


again  in  their  native  air  and  flutter  in  the  sunshine. 
Listen  !”  continued  the  old  man,  leading  the  way  to  the 
balcony.  “ That  is  the  Oolah  of  the  Senecas  ! They  are 
already  flying  before  my  victorious*  Charlie  !” 

It  was  true ; but  they  were  retreating  toward  the  01111, 
resolved  to  prevent  any  communication  with  it  by  a despe- 
rate stand  at  the  stream  that  swept  round  its  base. 
With  their  backs  toward  the  besieged,  and  sheltered  in 
front  by  the  embankment  of  the  stream,  the  bushes  and 
trees,  Moody  and  his  party  awaited  the  approach  of  the 
rescuers. 

“Be  me  sowl !”  cried  Paddy,  gazing  down  at  the  backs 
of  the  Tories  and  Indians,  “ it  sames  to  me  it  would  be  a 
bloody  shame  not  to  help  our  frinds  who  are  going  to  fight 
for  us  ! Plase,  sir/’  he  continued,  “let  us  open  a masked 
battery  on  ’em  beliint,  and  show  ’em  we  have  the  courage 
to  fight.” 

“Oh,  sir,”  said  Julia,  “let  me  unite  with  Paddy  in  be- 
seeching you  to  render  whatever  assistance  may  be  in  your 
power !” 

“ It  shall  be  done, -my  lassie  !”  said  the  roused  chief. 

He  then  directed  Paddy  to  bring  forth  some  half  a dozen 
brace  of  pistols.  These  he  charged  with  powder  only,  say- 
ing it  was  not  necessary  to  spill  blood  in  repelling  such  a 
foe.  No  shot  having  been  fired  from  the  cliff*,  the  enemy 
naturally  supposed  they  were  unprovided  with  ^weapons ; 
and  when  the  pistols  should  be  discharged  in  quick  succes- 
sion, the  panic  would  be  complete,  for  the  inference  that 
succours  had  entered  the  garrison  would  be  unavoidable. 
But  this  must  be  done  at  the  proper  time,  and  he  give  the 
signal.  Soon,  the  close  proximity  of  the  rescuers  was 
announced  by  a simultaneous  discharge  of  rifles,  both  from 
the  embankment  and  from  the  trees  and  bushes  on  the  level 
space  beyond.  Tha  floating  clouds  of  smoke  prevented  the 
spectators  in  the  fissure  from  having  more  than  fitful 
glances  of  the  conflict ; but  the  fire,  once  begun,  was  con- 
tinued without  intermission,  accompanied  by  shouts  and 
yells  and  the  death-shrieks  of  the  fallen.  The  fiercest  in- 
tensity of  the  struggle  fluctuated  from  right  to  left,  as  the 
combatants  strove  to  outflank  each  other.  The  awful 
braying  of  the  ass,  still  retained  by  the  Senecas,  announced 
that  blood  was  flowing ; and  the  continued  barking  of  the 


SECOND  SERIES. 


323 


little  brown  dog,  ever  and  anon  flitting  in  view,  was  proof 
of  Van  Wiggens  being  among  the  survivors. 

“Now  let  us  surprise  them  !”  said  the  old  man.  “ There 
are  four  of  us,  and  if  we  fire  in  quick  succession  they  will 
suppose  there  are  eight  guns  in  their  rear.  Besides,  I see 
my  faithful  men  on  the  cliff  are  plying  their  arrows.’' 

He  was  obeyed.  And  the  demonstration  was  crowned 
with  complete  success.  Moody,  appalled,  was  the  first  to 
give  way,  and  his  Tories  followed  him.  The  Indians  could 
not  maintain  the  conflict  alone,  and  soon  fled  after  them. 
Crossing  the  shallow  stream,  and  passing  over  the  ruins  of 
the  burnt  hut,  they  sought  shelter  in  the  ravine  at  the  head 
of  the  range  of  cliffs.  Here  they  made  another  stand, 
their  rifles  still  partially  commanding  the  position  they  had 
relinquished,  but  not  including  within  their  range  the 
ground  occupied  by  Charles. 

Charles,  convinced  that  his  parent  and  Julia  must  be 
looking  down  from  the  aperture,  with  the  location  of  which 
he  was  familiar,  advanced  into  an  open  space,  and  waving 
his  hat,  was  joyfully  recognised  by  those  whose  prayers 
were  unceasingly  uttered  for  his  preservation. 

He  was  joined  soon  after  by  Murphy,  Van  Wiggens,  and 
Peter  Shaver,  the  latter  leading  the  ass,  which  he  had  met 
within  the  woods,  and  which  it  seemed  was  destined  to  be 
ever  crossing  his  path. 

“Where’s  Hugh?”  asked  the  old  chief,  from  the  rift  in 
the  rock. 

“Fallen!”  was  the  sad  response. 

The  old  man,  pale  and  sorrowful,  bowed  his  head  upon 
his  breast. 

“ Tam  dem  !”  cried  Yan  Wiggens,  as  a fresh  volley  was 
fired  by  the  Indians,  the  only  effect  of  which  was  a slight 
wound  in  the  ear  of  Watch,  who  uttered  a sharp  cry  and 
shook  off  the  blood. 

“Hide  yourself,  my  son!”  cried  the  old  man,  “or  come 
hither  immediately ; else  they  will  slay  you  before  my  eyes. 
It  is  my  little  treasure  and  your  life  they  seek  !” 

“ I cannot  abandon  my  brave  men,  father,”  said  Charles. 
“And  the  battle  is  not  over  yet.  We  have  been  followed 
by  Brandt  and  a few  of  his  bravest  warriors,  urged  on  by 
the  bloodthirsty  Esther ! She  murdered  my  men  who  be 
came  their  prisoners  with  her  own  wrinkl'd  hands!  And 


824 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


Brandt,  whom  I loved  and  called  my  brother,  seeks  to  slay 
me,  believing  I killed  his  sister.  Twice  have  I spared  his 
life,  hoping  to  make  him  hear  my  denial,  but  I was  disap- 
pointed. When  he  listens  to  me,  and  believes  me,  as  he 
must,  he  will  retire.  I hear  him  now ! That  is  his  terrible 
warwhoop ! Spare  him,  my  brave  men  ! Spare  him,  for 
my  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  his  poor  murdered  sister. 
Let  me  speak  with  him,  and  we  shall  be  reconciled.’’ 

When  he  ceased  speaking,  the  junction  of  Brandt  with 
Moody  and  his  Senecas  was  announced  by  the  most  deafen- 
ing yells. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

MEETING  OF  THE  FOREST  BROTHERS. 

The  battle  was  renewed.  The  enemy  poured  down  the 
narrow  ravine  into  the  broader  valley,  led  by  Brandt,  who 
called  aloud  upon  White  Eagle  to  come  forward  and  decide 
the  contest  by  single  combat. 

And  when  the  Senecas,  Mohawks,  and  Tories  returned 
to  the  cliff  in  such  overwhelming  numbers  that  Charles  was 
forced  to  retire  over  the  stream  under  cover  of  the  inter- 
twining thicket,  the  old  hag,  Queen  Esther,  stood  upon 
the  desolate  apex  of  the  knoll  at  the  summit,  waving  to 
and  fro  a staff  she  termed  her  sceptre,  and  mumbling  one  of 
her  incantations  which  had  great  influence  over  the  super- 
stitious minds  of  the  savages.  She  had  a book,  in  which 
were  kept  the  names  of  her  victims.  The  number  was 
then  two  hundred  and  ninety-eight,  and  she  declared  the 
White  Eagle  and  his  father  would  make  an  even  three 
hundred. 

It  was  when  Charles  was  retiring  before  the  impetuous 
charge  of  Brandt,  that  Julia,  seized  with  inexpressible  ter- 
ror, swooned  in  the  arms  of  Kate.  She  was  borne  to  the 
couch  where  she  had  slept  during  the  night ; but  restora- 
tives administered  by  the  old  man  soon  revived  her. 

“I  am  not  ill,”  said  she,  smiling  faintly,  though  still  as 
pallid  as  *ver.  “ It  was  a picture  of  the  imagination,  per- 


SECOND  SERIES. 


325 


haps,  which  flitted  athwart  my  vision.  I thought  I beheld 
the  bleeding  form  of  Charles  borne  in  the  arms  of  Brandt, 
who  seemed  to  mourn  rather  than  exult  over  his  fall ! Oh, 
it  was  terrible  ! And  why  should  such  a scene  rise  before 
me  in  the  light  of  day  and  in  my  waking  hours  ? It  may 
be  a premonition  of  the  reality!  Oh,  go,  and  assist  him! 
He  is  borne  down  by  superior  numbers ! Go,  Paddy,  and 
fight  bravely,  for  my  sake!” 

“I  will!”  said  Paddy,  bustling  about.  “Be  me  sowl, 
I'll  kill  ivery  divil  of  ’em  that  comes  within  me  range. 
Give  me  all  the  pisthols ! Paddy’ll  show  ’em  fates  of 
valour  this  blissed  day !”  And,  saying  this,  he  withdrew, 
but  did  not  join  the  combatants. 

Brandt  led  the  way  over  the  stream,  being  some  twenty 
paces  in  advance  of  his  party ; and,  although  several  of 
them  fell,  victims  of  the  deadly  aim  of  the  concealed  rem- 
nant of  patriots,  the  great  chief  himself  sustained  no  in- 
jury. And  Charles,  although  exposed  more  than  any  of 
his  party,  likewise  remained  untouched.  Brandt  had  or- 
dered his  men  to  spare  him,  not  that  his  life  might  be 
saved,  but  that  he  might  be  reserved  for  his  own  hand. 

And  soon  they  met  face  to  face  in  a small  opening  in  the 
forest.  Brandt  was  pursuing  his  intended  victim,  who, 
perceiving  it,  had  purposely  separated  himself  from  his 
party. 

“ Three  times  have  I spared  my  brother’s  life,”  said 
Charles,  lowering  his  rifle,  and  stepping  boldly  out  from 
behind  a holly-tree. 

“ And  you  did  so  because  you  had  already  shed  enough 
of  the  blood  of  Thayendanegea !”  was  Brandt’s  reply,  as 
he  paused  abruptly,  frowning  fiercely,  his  tomahawk  brand- 
ished in  his  right  hand. 

“No,  my  brother,  it  was  not  so.  It  was  because  I de- 
sired to  convince  you  that  never  a drop  of  my  poor  sister’s 
blood  was  shed  by  me.” 

“And  can  you  do  so  ? Does  the  White  Eagle  say  he  did 
not  shed  the  blood  of  the  Brown  Thrush?” 

“Listen,  Thayendanegea.  We  were  boys  together.  We 
bathed  in  the  same  streams  by  sunlight  and  by  moon- 
light, or  when  naught  but  the  feeble  rays  of  the  distant 
stars  twinkled  upon  us  through  the  broad  leaves  of  the 
sycamore.  Then  we  clung  to  each  other  in  confidence,  and 

28 


326 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


the  Kacha  Manito  smiled  upon  our  affection.  I hav3  not 
changed.” 

“Not  changed!  We  bathed  in  the  limpid  Wyalusing, 
beside  the  wigwam  of  my  people.  The  smoke  of  the  coun- 
cil-fire ascended  the  blue  sky.  The  tassels  of  the  corn  bent 
under  the  weight  of  the  bees,  whose  hum  filled  all  the  air 
with  music.  All  was  peace  and  happiness.  Not  changed ! 
Who  has  made  the  home  of  my  people  desolate?  The 
corn  is  trodden  under  foot,  the  wigwam  is  in  ashes,  and  the 
Wyalusing  encrimsoned  with  blood!  And  who  wrought 
this  destruction  ? Why,  the  army  of  Sullivan,  sent  thither 
by  the  great  village-burner,  Washington,  whom  you  serve  ! 
Not  changed !” 

“ My  brother  cannot  have  forgotten  who  were  the  first 
aggressors.  But  I speak  not  of  war.  I say  my  heart  has 
not  changed !” 

“ But  you  have  not  said  you  did  not  slay  my  sister, — she 
who  loved  you  and  sang  by  your  couch  when  you  slept.” 

“ I do  say  it.” 

“ White  Eagle  once  was  incapable  of  lying.  If  he  had 
not  changed,  I could  not  avoid  believing  him.  But  the 
white  man  has  the  ingenuity  to  prove  the  guilty  innocent 
and  the  innocent  guilty, — to  make  solemn  oaths  to  dire 
falsehoods,  the  word  meaning  one  thing,  the  act  another 
False  ! false  ! Not  changed  !” 

“ No ; not  changed.  I make  no  solemn  oath.  I merely 
tell  thee  that  I am  innocent  of  thy  sister’s  blood.  If  I lie, 
strike  me  dead,  and  send  me  with  the  falsehood  on  my 
tongue  before  the  Great  Spirit  who  judges  all  things. 
Strike ! There  is  my  rifle  on  the  ground.  Thy  brother 
will  make  no  resistance,  nor  shrink  from  the  blow !” 

“Oh,  my  brother!”  exclaimed  Thayendanegea,  dashing 
his  tomahawk  to  the  earth,  “ I see  the  truth  in  thy  tears. 
Let  us  clasp  hands.  Though  separated,  we  shall  be  bro- 
thers still.  They  made  me  believe  thee  guilty.  And  who 
lied  to  me  ? Esther ! she,  more  cruel  than  the  Senecas, 
and  a pale-face ! Oh,  my  brother,  she  hath  written  thy 
name  in  her  roll  of  victims  ! I may  not  save  you.  But  this 
hand  shall  be  guiltless  of  my  brother’s  blood,  and  I will  do 
all  in  my  power  to  shield  you.” 

“And,  Thayendanegea,”  said  Charles,  “1  here  declare 
th^t,  if  I survive,  my  voice  shall  be  heard  in  behalf  of  my 


SECOND  SERIES. 


327 


forest  brothers  and  sisters.  Go  back  to  your  people,  my 
brother, — to  the  nations  which  acknowledge  you  as  their 
king, — and  tell  them  they  have  been  deceived.  America 
will  be  free.  To  Washington  they  must  look  for  protection. 
The  British  armies  will  be  beaten,  and  who  then  will  be 
their  friends  ?” 

“ Friends  ? And  who  are  the  friends  of  the  Indians  ? — 
those  who  pay  them  for  the  scalps  of  the  enemy,  or  those 
who  take  the  land  which  the  Great  Spirit  bestowed  upon 
them  ?” 

“ You  will  be  paid  for  the  land.” 

u Paid  ? And  when  we  must  sell  our  inheritance  against 
our  will,  who  is  it  that  shall  name  the  price  ? Alas ! it  must 
be  so.  I see  it.  The  Indian  is  doomed.  But,  in  the  land 
of  spirits,  in  the  great  hunting-grounds  beyond  the  grave, 
he  will  be  at  peace.  Then  those  who  despoiled  him  of  his 
fair  country  will  rend  each  other.  The  lords  of  the  forest 
must  give  way  to  the  corrupt  hordes  of  civilized  criminals. 
They  vanish  like  shadows  into  the  land  of  spirits,  to  be 
at  peace  forever.  But  behold  their  successors,  religious, 
virtuous,  with  written  laws.  See  their  destiny  prefigured 
in  the  more  than  savage  cruelty  of  Esther,  the  white  wo- 
man. Yes,  they  will  slay  one  another, : — their  religion  a 
source  of  incessant  hatred  and  contention,  their  virtues 
mocked  at  by  scaffolds  and  prisons,  and  the  law  but  the 
sword  of  the  majority  wrought  for  the  destruction  of  the 
rest.  Farewell,  my  brother.  I will  return  to  the  last 
abiding-place  of  the  deer  and  the  wolf.” 

“ Hark ! what  sound  was  that?”  exclaimed  Charles, 
turning  his  face  toward  the  cliff,  whose  summit  alone  he 
could  see  from  his  position,  and  where  he  beheld  the  frantic 
gesticulations  of  the  old  fury — who  likewise  heard  the 
sound — summoning  the  Senecas  around  her. 

“It  is  the  drum  and  fife  of  the  white  man,”  said  Brandt. 
“ They  are  coming  to  drive  back  the  poor  Indian  from  the 
last  of  his  beautiful  valleys.  They  will  hurl  us  hence  as 
the  storm-wind  rolls  the  foaming  serf  on  the  burning  sands ; 
but  they  cannot  restore  the  dead  to  life.  And  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  appease  the  Malcha  Manito  by  offering  a certain 
number  of  victims.  But  enough  has  been  done.  I see  a 
white  flag  approaching,  and  I will  assemble  my  followers 
around  me.” 


328 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 


He  then  uttered  the  rallying-halloo,  and  commanded  % 
cessation  of  hostilities ; and,  that  his  brother  might  not  be 
mistaken  for  a doomed  prisoner,  he  laid  his  arm  on  his 
shoulder,  and  they  advanced  together  to  the  sparkling 
stream,  where  friend  and  foe  were  soon  mingling  in  con- 
scious security,  and  Charles  was  hailed  with  joy  by  the  in- 
mates of  the  excavated  rock. 

A company  of  Wayne’s  men  had  arrived  from  the  glo- 
rious field  of  Monmouth.  The  British  had  retired  beaten 
from  the  bloody  plains  of  New  Jersey,  and  detachments 
were  sent  from  the  American  army  to  repel  the  aggressions 
of  the  Tories  and  Indians  on  the  borders. 

The  first  one  recognised  by  Charles  was  the  Rev.  David 
Jones,  at  whose  solicitation  the  company  from  Wayne’s 
brigade  had  been  marched  in  that  direction.  He  was  wel- 
comed, likewise,  by  Julia,  whose  voice  he  heard  and  knew, 
although  he  could  scarcely  see  her  through  the  clustering 
foliage ; and  the  aged  exile  would  not  permit  the  girls  to 
join  their  friends  below  until  the  last  of  his  treacherous 
foes  led  by  Moody  should  depart. 

“What  have  you  to  propose?”  demanded  Brandt,  still 
encircling  the  neck  of  Charles  with  his  arm,  as  if  he  feared 
the  doomed  victim  of  Esther  might  fall  in  his  presence. 
“What  do  you  demand  of  us?”  he  continued,  addressing 
the  captain  of  the  company  of  Continentals.  “You  are 
about  fifty  in  number.  We  can  count  ninety.” 

“Including  the  Tories,”  observed  the  officer. 

“No  matter  who  is  included,  so  they  are  well  armed 
and  ready  for  action.  I am  Brandt,  of  whom  you  may 
have  heard  much,  and  probably  much  that  is  untrue.  But 
he  is  your  enemy.  Yet  he  did  not  come  hither  to  wage 
war,  but  to  slay  the  supposed  murderer  of  his  sister.  He 
was  innocent.  He  is  still  my  brother.  For  the  last  time 
my  arm  is  round  the  neck  of  my  brother,  and  we  shall 
Boon  part  to  meet  no  more.  I will  return  to  that  remnant 
of  the  broad  country  which  was  once  all  our  own.  Shall 
I go  in  peace,  or  must  I fight  my  way  thither  ?” 

“ Go  in  peace.  We  shall  not  be  the  first  to  break  it,” 
said  the  officer. 

Brandt  then  spoke  in  a loud  voice  to  Esther  and  Moody, 
who  were  on  the  summit  of  the  cliff,  surrounded  by  their 
followers.  He  told  them  that  his  brother  was  innocent  of 


SECOND  SERIES. 


329 


his  sister’s  blood,  and  that  the  one  who  injured  Inm  would 
be  the  foe  of  Thaycndanegea.  And  he  said  he  had  agreed 
to  a suspension  of  hostilities  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Delaware.  Then,  by  the  authority  vested  in  him  as  Grand 
Sachem  of  the  Six  Nations,  he  commanded  the  Indians  to 
return  to  the  Delaware. 

“And  now,  my  brother,”  said  he,  embracing  Charles, 
“ we  are  reconciled,  but  we  part.  Let  us  never  be  foes 
again.  Believe  not  the  extravagant  stories  told  of  the 
Mohawk  chief,  and  no  one  shall  slander  the  White  Eagle. 
Farewell !” 

And  then,  averting  his  face,  Brandt  strode  away  toward 
the  dense  forest.  But  he  had  only  proceeded  a few  steps 
when  the  report  of  a rifle  rang  in  his  ear.  His  first  glance 
was  toward  the  crest  of  the  cliff,  where  the  small  cloud  of 
smoke  still  lingered.  His  next  was  at  Charles,  who  stag- 
gered forward,  and  would  have  fallen,  if  the  great  chief 
had  not  caught  him  in  his  arms. 

A prolonged,  thrilling  shriek  was  heard  at  the  cliff. 
Then  the  heavy  door  was  swung  back  upon  the  blackened 
fireplace  of  the  consumed  hut,  and  Julia  sprang  forth  and 
glided  frantically  toward  her  beloved.  Neither  rocks  nor 
streams  nor  armed  men  impeded  her  course.  Her  white 
robe  streaming  in  the  air,  her  hair  hanging  down  dishevelled, 
she  rushed  forward  and  threw  her  arms  around  her  wounded 
lover’s  neck.  Brandt  relinquished  his  burden,  and,  hastily 
uttering  a few  words  to  the  astounded  officer,  leaped  across 
the  stream  like  an  enraged  tiger  after  his  prey.  Before  a 
gun  was  raised  by  the  astonished  soldiers,  the  great  chief 
was  seen  again  upon  the  dizzy  height,  with  his  hand  grasp- 
ing the  throat  of  the  murderer. 

“He  confesses  the  deed!”  cried  Brandt.  “And  he  it 
wras  who  killed  my  sister.  Behold  the  vengeance  of  Thay- 
endanegea !” 

He  plunged  his  knife  into  the  breast  of  the  guilty  savage, 
who  sank  down  at  his  feet  without  a struggle.  And  before 
the  eyes  of  the  spectators  could  be  turned  again  in  the 
direction  of  the  fallen  youth,  the  gigantic  chief  dragged  the 
murderer  forward  and  hurled  him  over  the  precipice ! 

“ Cold ! cold !”  said  Julia,  sitting  on  the  ground,  with 
the  head  of  the  speechless  and  dying  Charles  resting 
against  her  bosom.  “ Cold  ! cold  !”  she  continued,  kissing 

28* 


330 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


his  lips,  “and  very,  very  pale  !”  But  the  youth  was  nc 
paler  than  herself  as  she  gazed  with  unmoistened  eyes  upon 
his  face.  “No  ! no!”  said  she,  when  the  white-headed  fa- 
ther of  Charles  came  forward,  weeping  bitterly,  and  would 
have  snatched  him  from  her  arms.  “He’s  mine !”  said  she. 
“You  shall  not  tear  him  away!  But  the  damp  earth  must 
receive  him  ! I will  bury  him,  and  I will  remain  bending 
over  his  grave,  like  the  willow.  But  I do  not  weep.  I 
cannot  weep.  Why  is  it  so,  Kate?”  she  continued,  seeing 
the  tears  of  her  companion.  “ You  know  I loved  him, 
Kate.  Then  why  do  not  the  tears  gush  forth  ? Mr.  Jones, 
cannot  you  tell  me  ? Oh,  you  need  not  feel  his  pulse,  my 
friend.  He  smiled  sweetly — it  was  for  me  alone,  and  I 
understood  it — and  then  like  the  sighing  zephyr  his  spirit 
passed  away.  And,  Kate,  he  died  in  my  arms.  And  I 
do  not  weep.  If  I cannot  shed  tears,  I will  sing — sing  the 
rest  of  my  days.  Singing  is  better  than  weeping.  And 
yet  every  one  around  is  shedding  tears ! Am  I not  a 
very  strange  girl,  Kate?  Do  not  despise  me;  I cannot 
help  it.” 

“Skippie,”  cried  the  poor  old  man  to  his  faithful  ser- 
vant, sobbing  at  his  side,  “we  will  go  to  France.  Make 
all  the  arrangements.  And  when  I,  too,  am  dead,  take 
my  body  to  Scotland.  Then  come  hither,  and  convey 
thence  to  the  same  grave^the  bones  of  my  son.” 

“No!  They  are  mine!”  cried  Julia.  “Although  I do 
not  weep  like  the  rest,  we  were  plighted  lovers.  I was  his 
and  he  was  mine — mine  forever.  We  were  one.  Before 
God  and  man  our  hearts  were  joined  together.  No  throb 
in  his  but  vibrated  in  mine.  He  weeps  not  now,  and  I do 
not  weep.  He  is  dead,  and  I,  too,  am  dead  to  the  world. 
But  I will  love  you  still,  Kate.  And  you  will  help  me  to 
plant  flowers  over  his  grave.  I cannot  dew  them  with  my 
tears ; but  my  Maker  will  send  refreshing  showTers,  will  he 
not,  Mr.  Jones?” 

“ Come,  my  poor  child !”  said  the  sighing  Baptist, 
gently  removing  her  from  the  body.  “ This  is  no  place 
for  you.  Come  with  me  to  the  house  of  your  guardian.” 

“Will  they  bear  him  thither?”  asked  Julia,  in  a low 
whisper,  clinging  to  the  preacher’s  arm. 

“Yes,  if  you  desire  it.” 

“Desire  it?”  said  she,  her  brilliant  orbs  fixed  upon  the 


SECOND  SERIES 


331 


Boldiers  and  others  surrounding  the  body.  “ I command 
it!”  she  cried,  in  a loud  voice.  “ There  is  a willow,”  she 
added,  “ with  a million  drooping  boughs,  near  the  council- 
tree  beside  the  brook,  where  our  vows  were  plighted.  There 
they  shall  bury  him.  Come,  Kate;  they  will  follow  us. 
You  must  not  leave  me  to-day.  I know  your  father  has 
sent  for  you,  and  for  me  too,  but  we  will  linger  a while, 
won’t  we  ? What  would  he  think  of  me  if  I appeared  be- 
fore him  with  no  tear  in  my  eye?  But,  Kate,”  she  con- 
tinued, in  a sweet,  sad  voice,  as  her  arm  encircled  the  waist 
of  her  sobbing  companion,  “ my  heart  is  broken.  There 
is  a cold  spot  upon  it.  It  can  never  be  warm  again.  Pity 
me,  Kate.  I am  very  miserable.  And  see  his  poor  father — 
an  exile  in  a strange  land,  bending  over  his  murdered  son ! 
It  was  the  work  of  the  cruel  Esther.  0 God ! ven- 
geance belongs  to  thee ! I would  not  crush  the  smallest 
worm  in  my  path.  Enough  of  that ! I alone  am  talking, 
while  the  rest  do  nothing  but  weep ; and  I feel  as  one 
standing  on  some  dreary  rock  between  the  living  and  the 
dead;  and  death  has  no  terrors,  for  he  smiled  in  death. 
Come  ! But  Solo  remains.  See  !”  she  continued,  glancing 
back,  “ my  poor  Solo  lies  beside  the  body.  Stay  there, 
Solo,  and  see  that  they  bring  him  to  thy  mistress.” 

Pale  and  tearless,  the  poor  maiden  was  led  away.  The 
body  was  soon  after  borne  along  the  same  path,  and  the 
next  day  it  was  placed  under  the  willow.  But  Julia  never 
wept.  She  only  chanted  the  incoherent  ballad  which  her 
disordered  mind  seemed  to  be  ever  composing. 

Lochiel,  bowed  with  grief  and  the  weight  of  years,  de- 
parted soon  after  in  one  of  the  French  ships,  and  died  in 
Paris. 

After  lingering  a few  days  over  the  grave  of  the  mur- 
dered youth,  Julia  and  Kate  were  conducted,  by  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Jones,  to  the  residence  of  Governor  Livingston,  near 
which  were  again  established  the  head-quarters  of  Wash- 
ington. 


332 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES! 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

CONCLUSION. 

Mr.  Schooley  and  his  son  Richard  were  plunged  into 
the  depths  of  misery.  The  cause  of  King  George  was  now 
truly  desperate,  and  no  one  really  supposed  the  United 
States  could  ever  he  conquered.  Already  the  civil 
authorities  were  confiscating  the  estates  of  those  who  had 
given  aid  to  the  enemy.  And,  as  friend  Thomas  was  aware 
that  the  fact  of  the  sale  of  his  droves  of  cattle  to  the 
British  could  not  remain  unknown,  he  was  endeavouring  to 
summon  the  fortitude  to  bear  with  Christian  humility  the 
loss  of  all  he  held  most  dear  in  the  world.  His  only  hope 
was  in  his  ward.  Her  intellects  were  wandering,  and,  if 
she  remained  non  compos  mentis , his  legal  guardianship 
might  be  prolonged.  Her  estate  could  not  be  forfeited. 
But  then  she  was  a guest  at  “ Liberty  Hall,”  the  residence 
of  the  governor,  and  Thomas  could  have  no  controversy 
with  him. 

Paddy  remained  on  the  farm,  at  the  special  request  of 
Julia,  who  charged  him  to  watch  the  grave  of  her  loved 
one  during  her  absence.  And  Peter  Shaver  was  the  over- 
seer when  Mr.  Schooley  returned  to  Burlington.  Peter 
retained  his  ass  till  his  death,  which  occurred  some  fifteen 
years  subsequently.  The  poor  animal,  which  had  been  so 
often  shocked  at  the  spilling  of  blood,  was  ever  an  object 
of  curiosity  to  the  neighbours. 

Mr.  Yan  Wiggens,  although  he  could  never  reconcile 
“Vatch”  to  the  black  tomcat  of  his  spouse,  had  the  saga- 
city to  keep  Mrs.  Yan  Wiggens  herself  in  a proper  state  of 
conjugal  subjection,  by  means  of  his  pet  bear,  which  he 
chained  to  one  of  the  posts  of  the  porch  of  the  inn. 

Solo  was  the  constant  companion  of  his  mistress,  whose 
restoration  was  despaired  of  by  the  best  surgeons  in  the 
army. 

The  commander-in-chief,  dining  one  day  with  Governor 
Livingston,  and,  having  heard  some  of  the  particulars  of 


SECOND  SERIES. 


333 


Julia’s  history,  expressed  a desire  to  see  the  poor  demented 
maiden.  Kate  led  the  benign  general  into  the  apartment 
where  Julia  was  wreathing  flowers  and  forming  crowns  of 
laurel.  She  looked  up,  and  smiled  sweetly,  but  sadly.  Her 
paleness  remained,  and  the  wild  expression  of  her  eyes 
seemed  not  diminished. 

Her  thoughts  were  with  the  dead.  Whatever  reply  she 
made  to  the  interrogatories  of  visitors,  she  invariably  re- 
verted to  the  wild  woods  and  to  her  departed  lover.  And 
her  responses  were  frequently  snatches  of  improvised  verses, 
which,  when  one  beheld  her  and  listened  to  her  mournful 
but  musical  voice,  seemed  the  appropriate  language  of 
heartbroken  maidens. 

“I  know  what  you  would  hear,”  said  she,  as  the  pitying 
Washington  gently  pressed  her  hand.  “ You  would  have 
me  repeat  my  ballad.  Listen 

“ On  the  gentle  Wyalusing, 

In  the  sultry  month  of  J une ; 

When  the  stars  begemm’d  the  heavens, 

And  earth  was  silver’d  by  the  moon  — 

They  say,  sir,  or  I’ve  dreamt  it,  that  wandering  among 
the  wild  roses  by  moonlight  with  him  (you  shall  hear)  in- 
jured my  intellect.  But,  pray,  don’t  believe  them. 

Beside  the  leaping  laughing  water, 

When  the  dusky  bats  were  flying, 

When  the  whippoorwill  was  sighing, 

And  the  katydid  was  crying, 

When  the  leaves  were  trembling  o’er  us, 

And  purest  blossoms  bloom’d  before  us, 

Nestling  ’gainst  his  noble 

But,  sir,  that  may  be  a solemn  secret,  not  to  be  divulged. 
Mr.  Sehooley,  my  good  guardian,  says  I ought  not  to  sing 
such  things.  He  is  a good  man,  but  I don’t  think  his  heart 
was  ever  broken.  He  must  have  fallen  in  love  in  the  town, 
and  not  in  the  wild  woods.  Please,  sir,  don’t  let  them 
injure  my  good  guardian.  He  was  very  kind  to  me,  and 
permitted  Charles  to  come  whenever  he  wished. 

Together  on  the  Wyalusing, 

Or  the  pebbly  Pa-pa-kating, 

Or  the  spreading  Susquehanna, 

Or  the  rushing  Lackawanna, 

Or  the  whispering  Kittaning, 

Or  the  green  batiks  of  Nesliaming— 


334 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES  : 


Hand-in-hand  we  roamed  together ! 

He  was  true,  and  I adored  him ; 

But  the  cruel  Queen  destroy’d  him 

I must  stop  there  to  breathe,  and  I’m  sure  you’ll  wait. 
Whenever  I come  to  that  part  I am  seized  with  a suffo- 
cating sensation,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  I am  panting. 
They  say,  if  I could  weep — but  why  should  I?  I knew 
he’s  in  heaven.  And  will  I not  go  thither  ? You  are  a 
good  man,  I know,  by  your  face.  Say,  do  you  not  think 
I may  meet  him  in  heaven  ? Oh,  pray,  do  not  weep  for 
me!  I cannot  weep  for  him. 

“ It  was  ’neath  the  quiv’ring  tree, 

At  our  feet  the  brawling  brook, 

He  declared  his  love  for  me 
And 

Mr.  Schooley  might  chide  me,  if  I recited  the  rest 

“ But  the  earth  is  his  cold  pillow ; 

He  lies  beneath  the  weeping  willow. 

And,  oh  ! Julia  cannot  weep  for  him  ! Dear  sir,  I would 
weep  if  I could ! Won’t  you  believe  me?” 

“ Yes,  my  dear  child,”  said  Washington,  bending  down 
and  kissing  her  ivory  forehead. 

“ I thought  so ! Yes,  you  may  kiss  me  if  you  will. 
They  call  you  the  father  of  your  country.  I am  an  orphan. 
We  are  good.  The  good  meet  in  heaven.  But  do  not 
weep  for  me.  I am  not  so  unhappy  as  they  think.  I have 
my  dreams  and  my  fancies,  and  I know  his  spirit  attends 
me.  Farewell !” 

Poor  Julia,  although  undoubtedly  impatient  for  death  to 
relieve  her,  survived  all  her  youthful  acquaintances  except 
Wilted  Grass,  the  Delaware  chief.  She  wandered  from  the 
grave  of  Charles  to  that  of  his  forest  sister  on  the  Ken- 
tucky River,  ever  accompanied  by  Gentle  Moonlight,  the 
Thrush’s  foster-mother.  The  faithful  Solo  was  their  only 
protector,  until  age  and  infirmities  rendered  him  incapable 
of  following  them.  Then  Julia  remained  at  her  farm,  sit- 
ting daily  beneath  the  weeping  willow.  And  when  her 
gentle  companion  died,  her  body  was  placed  beside  the  lost 
boy  she  had  nurtured.  But  Julia  remained,  probably  un- 
conscious of  the  lapse  of  time,  for  many  weary  years, 
a lonely  dweller  among  successive  generations;  and,  final- 
ly, when  she  had  attained  her  eightieth  year,  departed 


SECOND  SERIES. 


335 


without  a groan  or  a disease,  and  joined  her  friends  in 
heaven. 

The  family  of  School ey,  tradition  avers,  removed  to 
England.  It  is  said  the  politic  landlord  at  Burlington, 
whom  Thomas  had  established  in  business,  persuaded  his 
patron,  after  the  confiscation  of  his  lands,  to  seek  indem- 
nity for  Moody’s  spoliation,  and  to  pursue  William  Franklin 
for  the  <£1000  he  owed  him.  As  for  the  amount  due  from 
himself  to  the  Quaker,  he  (Brown)  was  “all  right,”  and 
would  reimburse  him  some  day  or  other. 

Bonnel  Moody  was  arrested  within  the  American  lines 
near  Morristown,  and  hung  as  a spy. 

The  Rev.  David  Jones  survived  to  a good  old  age.  And 
when  the  second  war  was  waged  with  Great  Britain  he 
again  left  the  pulpit  for  the  field.  Many  particulars  of 
his  life  may  he  found  in  the  “ Field-Book  of  the  Revo- 
lution.” 

Kate  Livingston,  likewise,  lived  to  an  extreme  old  age, 
and  was  blessed  with  a happy  family.  The  only  sad 
moments  of  her  life,  after  the  fearful  scenes  she  had  wit- 
nessed in  the  conflict  for  liberty,  were  when  she  visited 
Julia  at  her  abode  near  the  Rock. 

Wilted  Grass  died  only  a few  years  ago  near  the  ocean, 
in  New  Jersey,  and  was  buried  in  the  grave  of  his  fathers. 
The  Legislature  of  the  State,  shortly  before  his  decease, 
bestowed  a sum  of  money  on  the  aged  chief  and  the  small 
remnant  of  Delawares  who  dwelt  with  him,  as  compensa- 
tion for  the  destruction  of  their  game.  The  original  grants 
from  the  Indians  reserved  the  right  of  hunting. 

Simon  Kenton’s  subsequent  career,  and  Girty’s  doom, 
have  been  portrayed  by  a skilful  limner  of  Kentucky,  in 
two  volumes,  one  entitled  “Simon  Kenton,”  and  the  other 
“ The  Winter  Lodge.” 

Of  Boone,  the  hero  of  so  many  legends  and  romances, 
it  is  only  necessary  for  us  to  say  that  he  died  in  Missouri, 
following  the  buffalo  and  Indians  as  they  fled  before  the 
tide  of  civilization.  Some  of  the  adventures  of  his  old 
age  are  described  in  the  first  series  of  “Wild  Western 
Scenes,”  which  may  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
reader  of  these  pages. 


THE  END. 


